^fXai 


f  \  % 


'"*    ^c^m^J 


THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER  F  MORRISON 


^^^ 


•^ 


THE  FOUR  SEASONS 


THE 

FOUR   SEASONS 

BY 

CARL   EWALD 

TRANSLATED  BY 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1913 


Copyright,  1913, 

bt  dodd.  mead  and  company. 

Published,  October,  191S 


TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

The  songs  in  this  ^siori/  have  been 
translated  into  English  verse  by  my 
friend  Mr.  Osman  Edwards,  who  has 
successfully  accomplished  the  difficult 
task  of  retaining  not  only  the  rhymes, 
but  also  the  lilting  rhythm  of  the  orig- 
t^  inals. 

K  A.   T.  DE  M. 

(M 

5  Chelsea,  30  April,   1913. 


o 
o 


428996 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Translator's  Note       .       .      .      vii 
Prologue xi 

CHAPTER  I 
The  First  Meeting     ...        1 

CHAPTER  II 
Spring 25 

CHAPTER  III 
Summer 65 

CHAPTER   IV 
Autumn 101 

CHAPTER  V 
Winter 141 

CHAPTER  VI 
The  Second  Meeting  .      ,      ,169 


PROLOGUE 


Prologue 

Lo,  nowadays  the  earth  is  white 
or  green,  according  as  Winter 
rules  or  Spring.  The  thrush 
sings  in  the  grove  and  the 
canary  in  his  cage,  the  smoke 
rises  from  the  house-top  and  the 
church-bell  tolls  for  evensong. 
The  monk  walks  in  the  meadow 
and  the  poet  writes  verse. 

But  once  things  were  differ- 
ent. 

Once  things  were  so  that,  had 
somebody  taken  a  walk  on  the 
earth,  nowhere  would  a  dog  have 
run  out  of  a  house  and  barked 
at  him.  For  there  was  not 
upon  all  the  earth  a  single  dog 


Xll 


to  run  out  of  a  house  nor  a 
single  house  for  a  dog  to  run 
out  of. 

He  would  not  have  come  upon 
a  tree  nor  a  flower  nor  a  blade  of 
grass.  Nor  could  he  have 
found  a  drop  of  water  to  quench 
his  thirst  with. 

For  there  was  nobody  on  the 
earth — nobody  and  nothing. 

Had  there  been  anybody  who 
wanted  to  take  a  walk,  he  sim- 
ply could  not  have  done  so. 
For  the  earth  was  mere  vapour 
and  mist,  so  that  he  would  have 
fallen  plump  through  her  and 
plunged  straight  into  space, 
where  the  stars  float. 

And  he  would  not  have  had 
much     satisfaction     from     this. 


XUl 


For,  unless  he  had  been  quite 
round  and  nice  and  bright,  he 
would  have  cut  a  foolish  figure 
among  the  stars. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things. 

But  the  earth  quite  under- 
stood that  she  could  not  go  on 
like  this  for  ever.  She  could  not 
have  been  intended  to  be  never 
more  than  smoke.  So  she 
pulled  herself  together  and  did 
her  best.  But  she  had  to  go 
through  a  terrible  amount  and  it 
was  a  hard  time  for  her,  which 
she  never  forgot  and  which  she 
bears  the  marks  of  to  this  day. 

She  had  to  go  through  fire  and 
through  water  too. 

For  thousands  of  years,  she 
flew  through  space  like  a  ball  of 


XIV 


fire  and,  when  at  length  she  had 
a  stone  crust  about  her,  the  rain 
poured  down  upon  her  nor 
stopped  until  she  sailed  away 
like  an  enormous  drop  of  water. 

Meanwhile,  the  fire  in  the 
earth's  interior  broke  out  each 
moment  through  the  crust,  burst 
it  and  sj^lit  it  criss-crosswise 
and  flung  the  pieces  higgledy- 
piggledy  to  every  side. 

"My  poor,  dear  little  Earth!" 
said  the  sun  and  looked  at  her 
kindly. 

"Why  do  you  bother  about 
that  clot?"  asked  one  of  the  big 
stars.  "Shine  on  us,  who  are 
worth  shining  on." 

"The  earth  is  no  clot  to  me," 
replied    the   sun.     "She   is   my 


XV 


child,  like  yourself  and  the 
others.  And  she  is  the  young- 
est and  therefore  nearest  to  my 
heart.  It  is  not  so  very  many 
thousand  years  ago  since  she 
broke  loose  from  me  and  sallied 
forth  into  the  universe  to  tempt 
fortune  single-handed.  If  only 
she  behaves  pluckily  and  does 
not  lose  heart,  I  shall  have 
pleasure  enough  in  her." 

The  earth  heard  this  and  held 
out. 

Year  by  year,  the  stone  crust 
grew  thicker,  the  water  sank 
gradually  into  the  ground  and 
the  land  rose  to  the  surface. 
But,  even  when  the  crust  be- 
came so  thick  that  the  fire  could 
not  break  through  it  just  when 


XVI 


and  where  it  pleased,  but  had  to 
make  a  regular  effort  when  it 
wished  to  create  a  sensation, 
even  then  the  earth's  trials  were 
not  over. 

There  was  no  order  about  her 
at  all. 

For  instance,  it  was  just  as 
warm  in  Greenland  as  in  Italy. 
Plenty  of  plants  grew  on  the 
earth,  but  they  were  queer  ones: 
ferns  and  horse-tails  as  tall  as 
the  tallest  trees  in  the  forest 
nowadays.  There  were  ani- 
mals too,  but  they  were  strange 
and  uncanny  creatures  which 
we  never  meet  with  now  except 
in  the  old  fairy-tales.  There 
were  quadrupeds  that  were 
thirty  yards  long  and  swam  in 


xvu 


the  water;  and  there  were 
dragons  that  flew  in  the  air  and 
looked  horrid. 

And  so  it  happened  that  it 
became  ridiculously  cold  on  the 
greatest  part  of  the  earth. 
Wherever  one  looked  lay  ice  and 
snow;  and  the  animals  and 
plants  died.  fi 

But  then  the  fire  broke  out 
again,  more  violently  than  ever, 
and  overturned  hills  and  dales. 
Great  new  lands  rose  up  out  of 
the  sea;  and  the  sea  swept  its 
broad  waves  ruthlessly  over  the 
old  lands. 

No  one  could  conceive  what 
the  end  would  be. 

"My  poor,  dear  little  Earth!" 
said  the  sun.  ! 


•^ 
■^ 


>.'••;•  ^ 


XVIU 


But  how  all  these  things  were 
put  in  order  at  last — this  you 
shall  read  in  the  fairy-tale  of 
The  Four  Seasons. 


THE 
FIRST  MEETING 


The  Four  Seasons 

CHAPTER  I 

The  First  Meeting 

By  the  grace  of  God,  conferred  on 
Princes  four,  they  share  Earth's  burden: 
Theirs  the  glory,  hers  the  guerdon. 

It  happened  one  day  that  two 
princes  came  walking  over  the 
earth  of  each  in  the  other's 
direction. 

One  of  them  came  from  the 
North,  the  other  from  the  South. 
They  were  both  tall,  taller  than 
men,  taller  than  any  champion 
of  romance.  They  carried  their 
heads  royally  and  high  and  set 


■  ^ts 


#* 


^ 


<.     2     -^ 


their  feet  firmly  upon  the 
ground,  as  if  it  belonged  to  them. 

The  one  who  came  from  the 
North  was  the  elder.  He  was 
an  old  man  with  a  might  of 
white  hair  and  beard;  his  naked 
breast  was  shaggy,  shaggy  his 
legs  and  hands.  He  looked 
strong  and  wild,  with  cold,  stern 
eyes. 

The  one  who  came  from  the 
South  was  young,  but  no  less 
powerful  than  the  other.  His 
face  and  hands  were  burned  by 
the  sun,  his  eyes  strong  and 
gentle  as  the  sun.  Over  his 
shoulder  he  wore  a  purple  cloak, 
round  his  loins  a  golden  girdle. 
In  the  girdle  was  a  wonderful 
red  rose. 


When  the  princes  saw  each 
other  from  afar,  they  stopped 
for  a  moment  and  then  walked 
quickly  on  again,  as  though 
they  longed  to  meet.  But, 
when  they  had  come  a  little 
closer  to  each  other,  they  both 
stood  still  once  more.  The 
young  one  shivered  when  he  met 
the  old  one's  glance;  and  the 
sweat  sprang  to  the  old  one's 
brow  when  the  young  one  looked 
at  him. 

They  stood  thus  for  a  time. 
Then  they  sat  down,  each  upon 
a  mountain,  and  gazed  at  each 
other  and  waited  for  a  while  in 
silence. 

The  young  one  was  the  first 
to  speak: 


1 


♦     4     <' 


"You  are  Winter,  I  pre- 
sume?" he  asked. 

The  old  one  nodded: 

"I  am  Winter,  the  lord  of  the 
earth,"  he  answered. 

The  young  one  laughed  till 
the  mountains  rang: 

"Are  you  really?"  said  he. 
"And  I  am  Summer,  the  lord  of 
the  earth." 

They  sat  again  for  a  while 
and  measured  each  other  with 
angry  glances. 

Then  Winter  said : 

"I  came  out  to  meet  you  and 
talk  to  you.     But  I  do  not  like 

you." 

"I  came  intendmg  to  talk  you 
into  your  senses,"  said  Summer. 
"But  I  can  hardly  bear  to  look 


<-     5     O' 


at   you,   you   are   so   grim   and 

ugly." 

"Shall  we  divide  the  earth 
between  us?"  asked  Winter. 
"You  come  everywhere  with 
your  namby-pamby  sunshine 
and  melt  my  ice  and  plant  your 
paltry  flowers.  I  retaliate,  as 
you  know.  I  smother  your  crea- 
tures in  snow  and  spoil  your 
pleasure.  We  are  both  equally 
strong:  shall  we  conclude  a 
peace?" 

"What  would  that  lead  to?" 
asked  Summer,  suspiciously. 

"Each  of  us  must  keep  to  his 
own,"  replied  Winter.  "I  have 
my  ice-castle  in  the  North, 
where  you  can  never  come,  and 
you  have  your  sun-palace  down 


6    <' 


in  the  South,  where  my  sway 
does  not  reach.  As  we  cannot 
bear  the  sight  of  each  other,  we 
had  better  lay  a  broad  waste  belt 
between  our  kingdoms." 

"Nothing  shall  be  waste," 
said  Summer.  "Everything  shall 
be  green,  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. I  like  to  wander  out  of 
my  summer-palace  all  over  the 
earth  and  I  will  carry  my  light 
and  my  heat  as  far  into  your  ice- 
fields as  I  can.  I  know  no 
greater  pleasure  than  to  conjure 
forth  a  green  spot  in  your  snow 
.  .  .  even  though  it  be  but  for  a 
day." 

"You  are  conceited,  because 
you  are  in  luck's  way  for  the 
moment,"  replied  Winter.    "But 


you  should  remember  that  the 
times  may  change.  I  was  the 
more  powerful  once  and  I  may 
become  so  again.  Do  not  for- 
get that  I  am  born  of  the  eternal, 
unutterable  cold  of  space." 

"And  I  am  the  child  of  the 
sun  and  was  powerful  before 
you,"  said  Summer,  proudly. 

Winter  passed  his  fingers 
through  his  beard;  and  an  ava- 
lanche came  rushing  down  the 
mountain-side. 

"Ugh!"  said  Summer  and 
wrapped  himself  closer  in  his 
purple  cloak. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  my 
might?"  asked  Winter. 

He  raised  his  arms  in  the  air; 
and,  then  and  there,  the  mount- 


->     8     0' 


ain  on  which  he  sat  was  quite 
transformed.  A  wild,  bluster- 
ing storm  roared  over  it ;  and  the 
snow  swept  down  from  the  sky. 
A  brook  which  had  been  leaping 
gaily  over  the  slope  turned  sud- 
denly to  ice;  and  the  waterfall 
which  sang  and  hummed  over 
the  precipice  fell  silent  at  once 
and  its  water  froze  into  yard- 
long  icicles.  When  it  ceased 
snowing,  the  mountain  was 
white  from  top  to  foot. 

"Now  it's  my  turn,"  said 
Summer. 

He  took  the  rose  from  his 
girdle  and  flung  it  on  the  mount- 
ain whereon  he  sat;  and  forth- 
with the  loveliest  roses  shot  up 
from  the  ground.    They  nodded 


->    9    -> 


in  the  breeze  from  the  point  of 
every  rock  and  filled  the  valleys 
with  their  fragrance  and  their 
colours.  In  every  bush  sat 
merry  nightingales  and  sang; 
and  from  the  flower-stalks 
heavy  dew-drops  hung  and 
gleamed  in  the  sun. 

"Well?"  said  Summer. 

Winter  bent  forward  and 
stared  hard  at  the  loveliest  rose 
of  them  all.  Then  the  dew- 
drop  that  hung  under  the  flower 
froze  into  an  icicle.  The  bird 
that  sat  in  its  branches  and  sang 
fell  stifl*  and  frozen  to  the 
ground ;  and  the  rose  itself  with- 
ered and  died. 

"Well?"  said  Winter. 

But   Summer   stood   up   and 


♦     10    ♦ 


looked  with  his  gentle  eyes  at 
Winter's  mountain,  at  the  place 
where  the  snow  lay  deepest. 
And,  on  the  spot  at  which  he 
looked,  the  snow  melted  and 
from  out  the  ground  sprang  the 
largest  and  lovehest  Christmas 
rose  that  any  one  could  hope  to 
set  eyes  upon. 

In  this  wise,  the  two  princes 
could  make  no  way  against  each 
other. 

The  day  wore  on;  evening 
came  and  night.  The  moon 
shone  upon  the  splendid  snow- 
clad  mountain,  which  gleamed 
and  glittered  like  diamonds. 
Across  from  Summer's  mount- 
ain sounded  the  nightingale's 
song;  and  the  scent  of  the  roses 


<►  11  <► 


filled  all  the  fair  space  around. 

The  next  morning,  just  as  the 
sun  was  rising,  two  other  princes 
came  walking  towards  the  place 
where  Winter  and  Summer  sat 
glaring  at  each  other. 

One  of  them  came  from  the 
East,  the  other  from  the  West. 
They  were  shorter  in  stature 
than  Winter  and  Summer  and 
not  so  strong  nor  yet  so  awful  to 
look  at.  But  they  were  big 
enough  even  then ;  and  there  was 
no  mistaking  that  they  were  high 
lords  and  mighty  men.  For 
they  walked  the  earth  freely  and 
proudly  and  looked  around  them 
as  though  they  feared  no  one 
and  nothing. 


♦     12     ♦ 


The  one  who  came  from  the 
East  was  the  younger,  a  mere 
stripling  without  a  hair  on  his 
chin.  His  face  was  soft  and 
round,  his  mouth  was  ever  smil- 
ing and  his  eyes  dreamy  and 
moist.  His  long  hair  was  bound 
with  a  ribbon,  like  a  woman's. 
He  was  clad  in  green  from  top 
to  toe.  The  ribbon  round  his 
hair  was  green,  as  were  the  bows 
to  his  shoes ;  and  a  lute  was  slung 
across  his  shoulder  by  a  broad 
green  ribbon  of  silk.  The  new- 
comer walked  as  gaily  and 
lightly  as  though  his  feet  did 
not  touch  the  ground  and,  all 
the  time,  as  he  walked,  he 
hummed  a  tune  and  plucked  at 
the  strings  of  his  lute. 


♦     13     -> 


The  one  who  came  from  the 
West  was  much  older.  His 
hair  and  beard  were  dashed  with 
grey;  and  there  were  wrinkles 
on  his  forehead.  But  he  was 
good  to  look  at  and  he  was  ar- 
rayed in  the  most  splendid  attire 
of  them  all.  His  cloak  gleamed 
red  and  brown  and  green  and 
yellow;  and,  as  he  marched 
towards  the  sun,  he  spread  it  so 
that  it  shone  in  all  its  colours. 
He  himself  gazed  contentedly 
right  into  the  sun's  radiance,  as 
if  he  could  never  have  enough  of 
it.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a 
mighty  horn. 

Now,  when  these  two  had 
neared  the  others,  they  bowed 
low  before  them.     The  one  who 


♦     14     <• 


came  from  the  East  bowed  low- 
est before  Summer;  but  the  one 
who  came  from  the  West  showed 
Winter  the  greatest  deference. 

Thereupon  they  sat  down, 
just  opposite  each  other,  each  on 
his  mountain,  and  so  they  all 
four  sat  for  a  while,  in  a  circle, 
and  said  nothing.  Then  Win- 
ter asked: 

"Who  may  you  two  be?" 

*'I  am  Autumn,"  said  he  who 
had  come  from  the  West. 

"I  am  Spring,"  said  the 
other. 

Winter  looked  hard  at  them 
and  shook  his  head: 

"I  don't  know  you,"  he  said. 

"I  have  never  heard  your 
names,"  said  Summer. 


15 


"We  have  come  to  rule  over 
the  earth,"  said  Spring. 

But  now  Winter  grew  an- 
gry in  earnest.  He  wrapped  his 
head  in  the  most  terrible  snow- 
storm that  had  ever  been  seen 
in  the  land;  and  his  voice 
sounded  like  thunder  from  out 
of  the  storm : 

"Go  away,  back  to  whence 
you  came!  We  do  not  know 
you  and  we  have  nothing  to  say 
to  you.  Summer  and  I  are  the 
princes  of  the  earth;  and  we  al- 
ready are  one  prince  too  many. 
If  more  come,  it  will  simply 
mean  endless  trouble." 

"We  have  not  come  to  cause 
trouble,  but  to  make  peace,"  said 
Autumn,  gently. 


<•    16 


"Between  Winter  and  me  no 
peace  is  possible,"  said  Summer. 

"That  is  why  we  want  to  part 
you,"  said  Spring.  "We  two 
who  have  come  to-day  well  know 
that  we  are  not  so  powerful  as 
you.  We  bow  respectfully  be- 
fore you,  because  your  might  is 
greater,  your  sway  more  firmly 
established.  We  do  not  pre- 
sume to  encroach  on  your  do- 
minions. But  we  want  to  come 
between  you  and  hinder  you 
from  laying  waste  the  earth." 

"Yes,  if  you  could  do  that!" 
said  Summer. 

"Yes,  then  there  would  be 
some  sense  in  it,"  growled  Win- 
ter. 

"We     can,"     said     Autumn. 


17 


"We  understand  you  both,  be- 
cause we  have  something  of  both 
of  you  in  us.  When  you  ap- 
proach each  other,  one  of  us  two 
will  step  in  between;  and  the 
land  where  we  are  shall  then  be 
ours." 

"I  will  never  let  go  my  ice- 
castle  in  the  North!"  cried  Win- 
ter. 

"I  will  suffer  no  foreign 
prince  in  my  sun-palace  in  the 
South!"  cried  Summer. 

"No  more  you  shall,"  said 
Autumn.  "None  shall  disturb 
you  in  the  places  where  you 
reign  in  your  might.  But  now 
listen  to  me.  When  you  two 
move  over  the  earth.  Spring  and 
I  will  always  come  between  you 


->     18     <► 


and  soften  the  tracks  of  the  one 
who  is  going  and  clear  the  way 
for  the  one  who  is  coming.  In 
this  wise,  we  will  reign  for  a 
while,  each  in  his  own  time  and 
each  for  a  fourth  part  of  the 
year.  We  will  follow  after  one 
another  in  a  circle  which  shall 
never  be  broken  nor  changed. 
And  thus  the  poor  earth  will 
gain  peace  and  order  in  her  af- 
fairs." 

When  the  Prince  of  Autumn 
had  spoken,  they  were  all  silent 
for  a  while  and  looked  out  be- 
fore them.  Winter  and  Sum- 
mer distrusted  each  other  and 
neither  of  them  would  utter  the 
first  word.  But  Spring  and 
Autumn   half   rose    from   their 


'"Myi  (pi^cy-. 


<>     19     <> 


seats  and  bowed  before  the  two 
mighty  ones: 

"I  will  spread  the  cloth  for 
Summer,"  said  Spring. 

"I  will  make  Winter's  bed," 
said  Autumn. 

"I  will  release  earth  and  water 
from  their  icy  fetters  and  pre- 
pare them  for  your  glory,  O 
beauteous  Summer,"said  Spring. 

"I  shall  bite  your  heel!" 
roared  Winter. 

"And  I  will  make  room  for 
your  storms  and  snows,  O  stern 
Winter,"  said  Autumn.  "But 
first  I  will  bring  Summer's  pro- 
duce home." 

"I  shall  send  my  last  sun- 
beams after  you  and  give  you 
lovely  days,"  said  Summer. 


I 


<•        QQ        ♦ 


Again  the  four  princes  sat  si- 
lent and  gazed  out  over  the 
earth. 

And  again  evening  came  and 
night.  The  moon  shone  upon 
the  snow-clad  mountain,  Sum- 
mer's roses  shed  their  scent, 
Spring  hummed  a  tune  and 
plucked  at  the  strings  of  his 
lute.  Autumn's  motley  cloak 
flapped  in  the  wind. 

The  next  morning,  Winter 
rose  and  stood  upon  his  mount- 
ain, all  tall  and  mighty.  The 
other  princes  did  as  he  did. 

"Let  it  be  so  then!"  said  Win- 
ter. "For  a  hundred  thousand 
years  it  shall  be  so  and  no  other- 
wise.    When  that  time  is  past, 


21 


we  shall  meet  here  again  and 
talk  of  how  things  have  gone." 

Then  the  four  princes  bowed 
to  one  another  and  strode  away 
across  the  earth. 


SPRING 


->    25     <- 


CHAPTER    II 

Spring 

In  azure  now  out  of  grey  mist  grem 
My  own  sweet  violet,  shy  and  blue. 

With  eyes  of  smiling  sunshine 
And  tears  of  diamond  dew. 

The  Prince  of  Winter  sat  on 
the  mountains  and  gazed  upon 
the  valley. 

He  knew  that  Spring  must 
soon  be  here  and  anxiously 
looked  out  for  him.  But  there 
was  nothing  to  see  but  snow  and 
snow  and  yet  more  snow ;  and  he 
began  to  think  that  young 
Spring  was  afraid. 


">     26     <• 


He  laughed  scornfully  and 
sent  his  gales  howling  round  the 
mountain-peaks.  Wildly  they 
rushed  over  the  hills,  snapped 
great  trees  in  the  wood  and 
broke  the  ice  on  the  river  to 
pieces.  They  drove  the  floes 
before  them,  flung  them  over  the 
meadows  and  whipped  the  water 
into  foam. 

"There,  there!"  said  Winter. 
"Softly,  my  children,  softly!" 

He  bade  them  go  down  again; 
and,  grumbling,  they  crept 
round  behind  the  mountains. 

When  night  came  and  the 
stars  twinkled,  Winter  stared  at 
the  river  with  his  cold  eyes;  and 
there  and  then  there  was  ice 
again  upon  the  water.     But  the 


->     27     "^ 


waves  broke  it  into  two  at  once. 
They  leapt  and  danced  and 
cracked  the  thin  crust  each  time 
that  it  formed  over  them. 

"What's  this?"  asked  Winter, 
in  surprise. 

At  that  moment,  a  soft  song 
sounded  far  down  in  the  valley: 

Play  up  !     Play  soon ! 
Keep  time !     Keep  tune ! 

Ye  wavelets,  blue  and  tender ! 

Winter  clutched  his  great 
beard  and  leant  forward  to  lis- 
ten. Now  the  song  sounded 
again  and  louder: 

Play  up !     Play  soon ! 
Keep  time!     Keep  tune! 

Ye  wavelets,  blue  and  tender! 
Keep  tune !     Keep  time ! 
Burst  ice  and  rime 

In  equinoctial  splendour ! 


Up  sprang  Winter  and  stared, 
with  his  hand  over  his  brows. 

Down  below  in  the  valley 
stood  the  Prince  of  Spring, 
young  and  straight,  in  his  green 
garb,  with  the  lute  slung  over  his 
shoulder.  His  long  hair  flowed 
in  the  wind,  his  face  was  soft 
and  round,  his  mouth  was  ever 
smiling,  his  eyes  were  dreamy 
and  moist. 

"You  come  too  soon!"  shouted 
Winter. 

But  Spring  bowed  low  and 
replied : 

*'I  come  by  our  appointment." 

"You  come  too  soon!"  shouted 
Winter  again.  "I  am  not 
nearly  done.  I  have  a  thousand 
bags  full  of  snow  and  my  gales 


♦    29     "^ 


are  just  as  strong  and  biting  as 
they  were  in  January." 

"That  is  your  aiFair,  not  mine," 
said  Sj^ring,  calmly.  "Your 
time  is  past  now,  and  my  sway  is 
beginning.  Withdraw  in  peace 
to  your  mountains." 

Then  Winter  folded  his 
strong,  hairy  hands  and  looked 
anxiously  at  Spring: 

"Give  me  a  short  respite!"  he 
said.  "I  implore  you  to  grant 
me  a  little  delay.  Give  me  a 
month,  a  week;  give  me  just 
three  poor  days." 

Spring  did  not  answer,  but 
looked  out  over  the  valley,  as 
though  he  had  not  heard,  and 
loosened  the  green  silk  ribbon 
by  which  he  carried  his  lute. 


<•     30     *> 


But  the  Prince  of  Winter 
stamped  on  the  mountains  till 
they  shook  and  clenched  his  fists 
in  mighty  anger : 

"Go  back  to  whence  you 
came,"  he  said,  "or  I  shall  turn 
my  snows  over  you  and  bury  you 
so  deep  that  you  will  never  find 
your  way  out  of  the  valley.  I 
shall  let  loose  my  storms  till 
your  wretched  strains  are 
drowned  in  their  roaring. 
Your  song  shall  freeze  in  your 
throat.  Wherever  you  walk  or 
stand,  I  shall  follow  your 
tracks.  Whatever  you  call 
forth  by  day  I  shall  slay  by 
night." 

Spring  raised  his  head  and 
strode  through  the  valley.     He 


-0-     31     ■*■ 


plucked  harder  at  the  strings  of 
his  lute  and  every  tree  in  the 
forest  bent  forward  to  listen. 
The  earth  sighed  under  the 
snow,  the  waves  of  the  river 
stood  still  and  heard  and  then 
joined  in  the  song,  as  they  leapt 
towards  the  sea.  Winter  him- 
self swallowed  his  anger  for  a 
moment  and  listened  to  Spring's 
song: 

In  vain  thy  prayer  would  soften,  in 
vain  thy  menace  frighten ; 

Behind  the  blackest  cloud-wrack,  the 
sunbeams  laugh  and  lighten. 

It  rang  through  the  valley  in 
long,  loud,  solemn  tones;  and 
Echo  answered  from  every  hill 
and  mountain. 

But       Winter       shook       his 


♦     32     -*■ 


clenched  fists  to  the  sky  and 
shouted  aloud: 

"Out,  all  my  mighty  storms! 
Out  with  you,  out !  Burst  down 
upon  the  valley  and  shatter  and 
destroy  all  this!  Rush  over  the 
hills  and  snap  every  tree  in  the 
forest!  Overturn  the  mount- 
ains, if  you  can,  and  crush  yon- 
der green  mountebank  beneath 
them!" 

Out  rushed  the  storm ;  and  the 
snow  came.  It  was  awful 
weather.  The  trees  creaked  and 
crashed  and  fell,  the  river  over- 
flowed its  banks,  the  foam  of  the 
waves  spurted  right  up  to  the 
sky,  great  avalanches  of  snow 
poured  down  the  mountain- 
slope. 


"*■     33     ■*■ 


But  Spring  went  his  way 
through  the  valley  and  sang,  in 
ever  fuller  and  stronger  tones : 

Let  all  thy  loud  winds  bluster,  let  all 

thy  tempest  bellow ; 
Let  all  thy  white,  bright  snow-birds 

loose,  across  the  meadow  flying! 
Behold  my  foot  is  on  the  bridge  and 

all  the  ice-flowers  dying! 
Thou  knowest  thy  power  in  the  vale 

has  met  its  conquering  fellow. 

"Better  than  that!"  shouted 
Winter.  "Roar,  storm;  whirl, 
snow;  lash,  rain;  beat,  hail!" 

And  the  storm  roared  louder; 
and  the  snow  whirled  down.  It 
grew  as  dark  as  though  the  sun, 
the  moon  and  all  the  stars  had 
been  put  out.  Great  blocks  of 
stone  rolled  down  over  the  val- 


♦     34     "> 

ley;  the  mountains  shook  and 
split.  It  was  as  though  the  end 
of  the  world  had  come. 

But  high  through  the  murk 
shone  Spring's  green  garb;  and 
louder  than  storm  and  thunder 
rang  his  song.  Earth  and  air 
and  water  sang  with  him:  the 
poorest  blade  of  grass  beneath 
the  snow,  the  crow  in  the  wood, 
the  worm  in  the  mould,  each  of 
them  joined  in  the  song  accord- 
ing to  its  power.  Even  the  trees 
that  fell  in  the  forest  under  the 
onslaught  of  the  storm  confessed 
Spring  in  the  hour  of  their 
death : 

Thou  knowest  it  were  best  to  yield 
to  save  thy  might  from  falling; 

Thou  knowest  I  am  come  to  drape 
the  porch  of  Summer's  palace. 


^      iio      <' 


Thy  victims,  harried  on  the  hills  and 
murdered  in  the  valleys, 

Awake  to  life,  to  happy  life,  at  my 
soft  song's  recalling. 

Then  Winter  gave  in. 

The  storm  flew  north  over  the 
mountains  with  a  howl;  and  it 
stopped  snowing.  The  river 
returned  to  its  bed.  Now  and 
again  there  was  a  crash  in  the 
forest,  when  a  branch  that  had 
been  struck  by  lightning  fell  to 
the  ground.  Otherwise  all  was 
still. 

And  then  it  began  to  thaw. 

The  snow  had  often  sparkled 
in  the  sun  and  rejoiced,  but  that 
was  a  different  sun  from  the  one 
that  now  stared  down  upon  it. 
The  sun  now  riding  in  the  sky 


<-    36    ^ 


disliked  the  snow  and  the  snow 
dishked  the  sun. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  want 
here?"  asked  the  sun  and  stared 
with  ever-increasing  curiosity. 

And  the  snow  felt  quite  awk- 
ward and  wished  itself  miles 
away.  It  melted  up  above  till 
great  holes  came;  and  it  melted 
down  below  till  it  suddenly  col- 
lapsed and  turned  to  noth- 
ing, more  or  less.  Everywhere 
underneath  it,  the  water  ran  in 
rills:  through  the  wood,  down 
the  hillside,  over  the  meadow, 
out  in  the  river,  which  carried  it 
patiently  to  the  sea.  Everywhere 
stood  puddles  of  water,  large  and 
small;  they  soaked  slowly  into 
the  ground,  as  its  frozen  crust 


^    SI    <- 


disappeared  by  degrees.  But 
sometimes  they  had  to  wait,  for 
the  ground  was  hard  put  to  it  to 
drink  so  much  at  a  time. 

And,  while  it  thawed,  harder 
and  harder,  and  the  coat  of  snow 
grew  thinner  every  day,  Spring 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  wood 
and  bowed  to  the  earth  and 
sang: 

My  little  snowdrop,  gentle  sprite, 
Thy  heart  was  ever  brave  and  bright. 
Not   once    it   faltered,   pierced   with 
fright, 
At  Winter's  white  wrath  bleeding. 

Under  Spring's  song,  a  hun- 
dred snowdrops  burst  from  the 
ground  and  shone  forth  white 
and  green.     They  nodded  their 


/I  OtLOOi^ 


♦     38     "*" 


heavy  heads ;  and  Spring  nodded 
to  them.  But  then  he  went  on, 
till  he  stopped  again,  farther 
away,  and  sang: 

And  quick,  each  tiny  crocus,  too. 
Put  on  your  frocks  of  daintiest  hue, 
Frocks  yellow,  white  and  dusky-blue. 
In  full  first  clusters  leading! 

The  crocuses  at  once  opened 
their  flowers  and  strutted,  short 
as  they  were,  for  they  were  ever 
so  proud  of  being  among  the 
first.  But,  while  they  were  still 
swarming  out,  already  Sprin 
was  in  a  fresh  place  and  sang: 

Climb,     whitlow-grass,    thy     willow- 
mast! 
O  where  art  thou  ?    Yet  sleeping  fast  ? 
Thou  wast  not  wont  to  enter  last: 
Up,  lower  plants  preceding! 


39 


And  all  the  willow-branches 
were  filled  forthwith  with  the 
yellow  flowers  of  the  whitlow- 
grass,  which  nodded  gladly  to  the 
crocuses  and  snowdrops.  And 
Spring  sang  again: 

Dear     fresh     spurge-laurel,     briskly 


grow 


Thou,    whose    keen    lance    with    fiery 

glow 
Would  burst  the  lap  of  the  cold  snow, 
Come  forth :  obey  my  pleading ! 

There  stood  the  spurge-laurel, 
like  a  bright-red  birch-rod  ready 
for  use  on  Ash  Wednesday. 
But  Spring  pulled  the  lower 
branches  of  the  bush  aside  and 
bent  still  more  deeply  towards 
the  ground  and  sang  more  softly 
than  ever: 


<-     40     "*■ 


Thou  of  all  symbols,  dearest  yet, 
My  true,  my  lovely  violet! 
Soon  sun  will  burn,   soon  rain  will 
wet: 
Be  ready,  no  call  needing! 

And  the  violet  shot  up  its 
broad  green  leaves  from  the 
ground  to  show  Spring  that  it 
was  ready. 

Then  the  mist  floated  out  over 
the  valley.  No  one  could  see 
where  it  came  from,  but  it  came 
and  remained  for  many  a  long 
day. 

They  were  strange,  silent 
days.  Everywhere,  everything 
oozed  and  bubbled  and  rustled 
and  seethed  in  the  ground;  and 
there  was  not  a  sound  besides. 
Noiselessly,  the  mist  glided  over 


♦     41     <^ 


the  hills  and  into  the  woods  and 
hung  heavy  dew-drops  on  every 
single  twig.  And  the  dew- 
drops  dripped  and  fell  from 
morn  till  eve  and  from  eve  till 
morn. 

So  thick  was  the  mist  that  the 
river  was  hidden  in  it,  till  one 
could  only  hear  it  flow.  And 
the  hills  were  hidden  and  the 
woods,  till  one  saw  nothing  but 
the  outside  trees  and  even  that 
only  as  shadows  against  the 
damj),  grey  wall  of  mist. 

But  where  the  mist  was  thick- 
est there  was  Spring.  And  the 
thicker  the  mist  grew  the 
brighter  shone  Spring's  green 
garb.  And,  all  the  time  that  the 
water  oozed  and  the  dew-drops 


<•     42     <• 


dripped   and   the   river  flowed, 
Spring  sang: 

Softly   slipping, 

Little  drop,  go  dripping,  dripping! 

But  up  in  the  mountains  lay 
the  Prince  of  Winter  and 
kirked.  He  saw  how  the  snow 
melted  and  disappeared;  he 
saw  the  flowers  come  and  could 
do  nothing  to  prevent  it.  The 
snow  melted  right  up  in  the 
1  mountains;  and  he  felt  that  it 
would  become  a  bad  business 
indeed  if  he  did  not  put  a  stop 
to  it. 

So  he  stole  down  to  the  val- 
ley in  the  darkness  of  the  night; 
and,  next  morning,  there  was  ice 
on  the  puddles  and  the  mist  lay 


♦     43     **■ 


beaten  down  upon  the  meadow 
in  sparkling  hoar-frost. 

But,  when  the  young  Prince 
of  Spring  saw  this,  he  only 
laughed : 

"That's  no  use,"  he  said. 

Then  he  raised  his  young  face 
to  the  sky  and  called: 

"Sun  I     Sun!" 

And  the  sun  appeared. 

The  clouds  parted  at  once; 
and  the  sun  melted  the  ice  and 
the  hoar-frost.  Then  he  hid 
again  behind  the  clouds.  The 
mist  floated  over  the  hills  anew, 
everything  oozed  and  bubbled 
and  rustled  and  dripped.  The 
snowdrop  and  the  crocus  and  the 
willow-wood  blossomed  that  it 
was  a  joy  to  see;  and  the  violet 


•*•     44     "*■ 


cautiously  stuck  its  buds  above 
ground. 

"Now  all  is  well!"  said  Spring. 

And,  as  he  spoke,  a  sprightly 
wind  came  darting  over  the  hills. 

It  shook  the  dew-drops  from 
the  boughs  of  the  trees,  till  they 
fell  to  the  ground  in  a  splashing 
rain.  Then  it  fluttered  through 
the  old  dry  grass  in  the  meadow, 
crested  the  waves  of  the  river  and 
scattered  the  mist  in  no  time. 
Then  it  set  about  drying  the  wet 
ground  and  drove  the  clouds 
over  the  mountains.  There  they 
remained  hanging  and  hid  the 
angry  face  of  Winter.  But, 
day  after  day,  the  sun  rode  in  a 
bright  blue  sky;  and  it  grew 
warm  in  the  valley. 


<►     45     ^ 


Then  the  violet  burst  forth. 
It  hid  bashfully  among  its  broad 
green  leaves,  but  its  scent  spread 
wide  over  the  meadow.  And 
Spring  plucked  at  the  strings  of 
his  lute  and  sang  till  the  valley 
rang  again: 

In  azure  now  out  of  grey  mist  grew 
My  own  sweet  violet,  shy  and  blue, 

With  eyes  of  smiling  sunshine 
And  tears  of  diamond  dew. 

And,  when  Spring  had  sung 
that  song — and  it  rang  to  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  river,  to  the  very  ends 
of  the  valley — then  everything 
came  on  at  about  the  same  time 
and  at  a  pace  that  can  hardly  be 
described. 


♦     46     ^ 


At  night,  the  valley  was  full 
of  sound.  But  none  could  hear 
it  whose  heart  was  not  full  of 
green  boughs.  For  it  was  the 
sound  of  buds  bursting,  little 
green  sheaths  unrolling,  twigs 
stretching,  flowers  opening,  scent 
spreading  and  grass  growing. 

By  day,  it  was  sometimes  sun- 
shine and  sometimes  rain,  but 
always  good.  And  what  hap- 
pened then  could  be  seen  by  any 
one  who  had  eyes  to  see  with. 

First,  the  ground  in  the  wood 
became  quite  white  with  anemo- 
nes. So  white  did  it  all  become 
that  the  Prince  of  Winter,  who 
was  peeping  down  through  a  rift 
in  the  clouds,  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment that  there  was  snow.     He 


•»    47    "^ 


was  gladder  than  he  had  been 
since  February.  But,  when  he 
saw  his  mistake,  he  stole  into  the 
wood  one  night,  for  the  last  time, 
and  bit  in  two  the  necks  of  all 
the  flowers  that  he  could. 

But  a  thousand  new  ones  came 
for  every  one  that  died.  And  in 
the  midst  of  the  anemones  stood 
the  larkspur  and  the  lungwort, 
which  had  blue  and  red  flowers, 
to  suit  your  fancy;  the  star  of 
Bethlehem,  which  was  a  bright 
golden-yellow,  but  modest  never- 
theless; the  wood-sorrel,  which 
was  so  delicate  that  it  withered  if 
you  but  touched  it;  the  cowslip; 
and  the  speedwell,  which  was 
small  enough,  but  very  blue  and 
proud  as  Lucifer. 


•>     48     ■*■ 


The  meadow  got  itself  a 
brand-new  grass  carpet,  orna- 
mented with  yellow  patches  of 
buttercups  and  dandelions. 
Along  the  ditches  it  was  bor- 
dered with  dear  little  cuckoo- 
flowers and  out  towards  the  river 
it  had  a  fringe  of  rushes  that 
grew  broader  and  thicker  day  by 
day.  Below,  from  the  bottom 
of  the  lake,  sprang  the  water- 
lily's  thick  stalks,  vying  one  with 
the  other  who  should  reach  the 
surface  first;  and  the  frogs, 
who  had  been  sitting  in  the 
mud  and  moping  all  through  the 
winter,  crawled  out  and  stretched 
their  hindlegs  and  swam  up 
and  uttered  their  first  "Quack! 
Quack!"  in  such  a  way  that  you 


♦    49    ^^ 


could   not  have   helped   feeling 
touched. 

But  the  crows  and  the  spar- 
rows and  the  chaffinches,  who 
had  spent  the  winter  down  in  the 
valley,  raised  so  great  a  hubbub 
that  it  seemed  as  though  they 
had  taken  leave  of  their  senses. 
They  ran  round  the  meadow  and 
pecked  at  the  soft  ground  and 
nibbled  at  the  grass,  though 
they  knew  quite  well  that  it 
would  disagree  with  them.  They 
flapped  their  wings  and  shouted, 
"Hurrah  for  Spring!"  in  a  way 
that  showed  they  meant  it.  The 
tit  was  there  too  and  the  wren, 
small  as  she  was.  For  they  had 
been  there  all  the  time,  like  the 
others,  and  fared  just  as  hard. 


•*'     50     <* 


And  the  crow  simply  did  not 
know  which  leg  to  stand  upon. 
He  started  a  croaking-match 
with  his  old  woman,  with  whom 
he  had  lived  the  year  before  and 
all  through  the  winter  and  with 
whom,  since  last  February,  he 
had  had  a  great  quarrel  about  a 
dead  stickleback.  The  sparrow 
sat  down  beside  his  missus,  stuck 
his  nose  in  the  air  and  sang  as 
though  he  were  the  nightingale 
himself.  The  tit  was  perfectly 
delirious  with  spring.  He  shut 
his  eyes  and  told  his  mate  the 
maddest  stories  about  delicious 
worms  and  big,  fat  flies  that  flew 
right  down  your  throat  without 
your  having  to  stir  a  wing.  And 
Mr.    Chaffinch    got    himself    a 


•>    51     <• 


grand  new  red  shirt-front,  which 
made  Mrs.  Chaffinch  nearly 
swoon  away  with  admiration. 
But  the  wren,  whose  husband 
had  died  of  hunger  at  Christmas, 
preened  and  pohshed  her  feath- 
ers so  that  she  might  be  taken  for 
the  young  and  lively  widow  that 
she  was. 

And  the  Prince  of  Spring 
laughed  and  nodded  kindly  to 
them ; 

"You  are  a  smart  lot,  one  and 
all  of  you,"  he  said.  "And  you 
have  gone  through  trouble  and 
deserve  a  happy  day.  But  now 
I  must  get  hold  of  my  own 
birds." 

He  turned  to  the  South  and 
clapped  liis  hands  and  sang : 


"^     52     "^ 


Come,  sweet  lark  and  siskin  small, 

Blackcap,  do  not  dally! 
Swallow,  thrush,  come  one,  come  all! 

Spring  is  in  the  valley. 

Up  and  down  fly  all  day  through. 

Fear  no  wintry  shadow ! 
Earth  is  green  and  heaven  is  blue, 

Flowers  spring  in  the  meadow. 

Singing,  piping,  hasten  here ! 

Come,  each  tuneful  darling! 
Come  from  far  and  come  from  near. 

Lapwing,  stork  and  starling ! 

Then  the  air  hummed  with  the 
beat  of  a  thousand  wings  and  the 
army  of  birds  of  passage  fell  like 
a  host  upon  the  valley.  Each 
night  the  air  was  vocal  with  the 
passing  of  the  birds;  and  in 
the  morning  there  was  no  end 
to  the  twittering. 


->     53     <- 


There  sat  the  starling  and 
whistled  in  his  black  dress-coat, 
with  all  the  orders  on  his  breast. 
The  swallow  swept  through  the 
air;  siskin  and  linnet,  night- 
ingale and  blackcap  hopped 
about  in  the  copsewood.  The 
reed-warbler  struck  his  trills  in 
the  rushes  along  the  river-banks 
so  touchingly  that  one  could 
weep  to  hear  it,  the  thrush  took 
the  deep  notes  and  the  goldfinch 
the  high  ones,  the  cuckoo  ven- 
tured upon  his  first  call  and 
the  lapwing  sat  on  his  mound 
and  swaggered.  But  the  stork 
walked  in  the  meadow  and  never 
vouchsafed  a  smile. 

Meanwhile,  the  whole  wood 
had   come   out,   but   the   leaves 


'i^. 


<•     54     "> 


were  still  small,  so  that  the  sun 
was  able  to  peep  down  at  the 
anemones.  Lihes  of  the  valley 
distilled  their  fragrance  for 
dainty  nostrils  and  woodrnfFs 
theirs  for  noses  of  the  humbler 
sort.  The  green  flowers  of  the 
beech  dangled  from  the  new 
thin  twigs;  cherry  and  black- 
thorn were  white  from  top  to  toe ; 
valerian  and  star  of  Bethlehem 
and  lousewort  did  their  best. 
The  shepherd's  pouch,  that  blos- 
somed the  whole  year  round,  was 
annoyed  that  no  one  took  any 
notice  of  it,  but  the  orchis  stood 
and  looked  mysterious  and  un- 
canny, because  it  had  such 
strange  tubers  in  the  ground. 
Far  in  the  beech-thicket,  where 


<■    55    •*■ 


it  was  greenest  and  prettiest,  sat 
a  lovesick  siskin  and  courted  his 
sweetheart,  who  hopped  on  a 
twig  beside  him  and  looked  as  if 
she  simply  could  not  understand 
what  he  was  driving  at. 
He  sang : 

If  only,  love,  thou  wilt  be  mine, 
If  now  my  singing  heard  is, 

A  nest  I'll  give  thee  soft  and  fine 
With  four  delightful  birdies. 

Where  rows  of  beech  a  glade  enfold, 
We'll  build  with  toil  and  trembling ; 

Our  birdies  shall  have  beaks  of  gold, 
Their  Daddy  much  resembling. 

To  thee  I'll  prove  both  true  and  kind, 
While  bonds  of  love  secure  thee; 

Of  flies  such  multitudes  I'll  find 
As  no  words  could  ensure  thee. 


<-    56    <- 


At  dawn  of  day  I  labour  will, 
The  nest  shall  be  thy  keeping; 

Each   night,   when   sunset   seeks   the 
hill, 
I'll  serenade  thee  sleeping. 

When  he  had  sung  his  ditty  to 
the  end,  he  looked  hard  at  her 
and,  as  she  did  not  answer  him 
at  once,  he  gave  her  a  sound  peck 
with  his  beak. 

"Don't  do  that!"  she  said. 

But,  when  he  ceased  pecking 
at  her  and  raised  his  wings,  as 
though  he  meant  to  fly  away,  she 
hastened  to  sing: 

Yes,  I  will  be  thy  own  clear  love, 
Of  bairns  we'll  prate  together; 

With  few  would  I  have  flown,  dear 
love; 
So  preen  a  prouder  feather! 


♦    57     **" 


Then  they  flew  singing 
through  the  wood.  And  they 
were  hardly  gone  before  two 
other  birds  came  and  sat  on  the 
same  twig  and  sang  the  same 
thing  in  another  manner. 

But  the  leaves  of  the  beech 
grew  and  there  came  more  and 
more.  They  gathered  closer 
and  closer  over  the  wood  and,  one 
fine  day,  it  was  quite  impos- 
sible for  the  sun  to  find  a  hole  to 
peep  through. 

Then  the  anemones  became 
seriously  frightened : 

"Shine  on  us.  Sun,  or  we  shall 
die!"  they  cried. 

They  cried  to  the  wind  to 
sweep  the  horrid  leaves  away,  so 
that  the  sun  could  see  his  own 


->    58     "> 


dear  little  anemones.  They  cried 
to  the  beech  that  it  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  itself,  great,  strong 
tree  that  it  was,  for  wishing 
to  kill  innocent  flowers.  They 
cried  to  Spring  to  help  them  in 
their  distress. 

But  the  sun  did  not  see  them 
and  Spring  did  not  hear  them 
and  the  beech  took  no  heed  of 
them  and  the  wind  laughed  at 
them.  There  was  such  gladness 
in  the  valley  that  it  drowned 
their  voices;  and  they  died  quite 
unnoticed. 

Every  single  day,  new  flowers 
came  which  were  radiant  and  fra- 
grant. Every  single  day,  the 
birds  discovered  a  new  trill  to 
add   to   their   song.     The   stag 


•»    59    -^ 


belled  in  the  glade,  before  even 
the  sun  was  up,  and  the  hind 
answered  and  sprang.  Every 
second,  the  fish  leapt  in  the  wa- 
ter; and  there  was  no  end  to  the 
croaking  of  the  frogs  in  the 
ditch.  The  snake  wriggled 
along  the  edge  of  the  brook  and 
made  play  with  his  tongue;  in 
every  hedge  sat  small  brown 
mice  exchanging  amorous  looks. 
Even  the  flies  buzzed  more 
fondly  than  usual. 

But,  when  the  gladness  was  at 
its  highest,  the  young  Prince  of 
Spring  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
valley,  where  the  mountains  en- 
close it  towards  the  North. 
He  looked  out  over  his  king- 
dom.    His  eyes  were  moist  and 


<•    60    <* 


dreamy,  his  mouth  was  ever 
smiling.  He  loosened  from  his 
shoulder  the  green  silk  ribbon  in 
which  his  lute  was  slung, 
plucked  once  more  at  the  strings 
and  hummed  to  its  accompani- 
ment. It  was  a  beautiful,  hazy- 
day,  a  day  on  which  the  birds 
subdued  their  songs  and  the 
flowers  closed  their  petals. 

And  Spring  bowed  over  a 
little  blue  flower  that  sprouted 
at  his  foot  and  sang,  sadly: 

Forget-me-not  blue, 
Thou  dreamy  one. 
Thou  charming  one, 
Thou  sweet  one ! 

Then  he  went  northwards. 
And,  wherever  he  set  his  foot, 


♦    61     ♦ 


the  snow  melted  and  the  flowers 
burst  forth. 

But,  when  he  had  come  to 
the  last  place  from  which  he 
could  see  the  valley,  he  turned 
round. 

And  far  away  towards  the 
South,  where  the  valley  runs 
into  the  plain,  stood  the  Prince 
of  Summer,  tall  and  straight. 
His  face  and  his  hands  were 
brown  with  the  sun,  his  eyes 
gentle  and  warm  as  the  sun. 
Over  his  shoulder  he  wore  a 
purple  cloak,  around  his  loins  a 
golden  girdle.  In  the  girdle 
was  a  wonderful  red  rose. 

Then  Spring  bowed  low  and 
went  away  over  the  mountains. 


SUMMER 


->    65    -> 


CHAPTER    III 
Summer 

Now  bosky  darkness  grows. 
The  gradual  summer-light  bestows 
Faint  star-light  on  each  hollow. 

None  had  noticed  Spring's  fare- 
well or  Summer's  coming. 

The  birds  sang  and  the  flies 
buzzed.  The  gnats  danced  up 
and  down  in  the  air,  till  the  swal- 
low broke  up  the  ball ;  the  flowers 
smelt  sweet,  the  frogs  croaked, 
the  stag  belled  in  the  glade. 
There  was  no  end  to  the  uni- 
versal gladness. 

And,  while  the  mountains 
were  still  turning  green  wherever 


66 


Spring  had  set  his  foot,  right 
up  to  Winter's  eternal  snows  on 
the  peaks,  the  Prince  of  Summer 
stood  for  a  time  and  surveyed 
the  kingdom  which  Spring  had 
quitted. 

His  form  sent  forth  so  sunny 
a  radiance  that  it  grew  hotter  in 
the  valley  than  it  ever  had  been. 
His  eyes  shone,  his  purple  cloak 
beamed,  the  golden  girdle  a- 
round  his  loins  blazed  like  fire, 
the  red  rose  in  his  girdle  glowed. 

When  he  had  stood  a  while,  he 
raised  his  hand,  as  though  he 
would  bid  them  be  still.  But 
none  heeded  liim.  The  siskin 
hopped  in  the  thicket  with  his 
sweetheart,  gave  her  loving  looks 
and  pecked  at  her  with  his  beak. 


<►    67    <• 


The  fish  sported  merrily  in  the 
water,  the  meadow  displayed  all 
its  glories  and  the  wood  stood 
lost  in  green  dreams. 

The  Prince  of  Summer  smJled 
and  raised  his  hand  once  more. 
When  this  had  no  effect,  he 
knitted  his  brows  and  his  face 
darkened. 

And,  at  that  moment,  a  veil 
passed  over  the  sun.  From 
east  and  west,  thick  clouds  came 
slowly  over  the  hills,  thicker 
and  blacker  than  the  valley  had 
yet  seen  and  with  strange,  thick 
edges.  From  the  clouds  rolled 
the  thunder,  distant  and  muffled, 
but  such  that  none  could  doubt 
its  power. 

The  clouds  came  nearer  and  it 


<-     68     ^^ 


grew  ever  darker,  but  no  less  hot 
for  that.  Inside  the  wood,  it 
was  as  though  it  were  evening. 
The  wind  took  fright  and  ran 
away  behind  the  hills  and  sub- 
sided. The  air  was  singularly 
close  and  heavy.  The  leaves  of 
the  trees  hung  slack,  as  though 
they  were  sick,  and  the  flowers 
hastened  to  shut  their  petals. 
No  one  knew  what  became  of  the 
flies,  but  they  were  gone.  The 
little  brown  mice  forgot  their 
amorous  nonsense  and  sat  in 
their  parlours  and  squeaked. 
The  stag  took  shelter  behind  the 
thickest  bushes;  the  croak  of  the 
frogs  stuck  in  their  throats  and 
they  went  down  to  the  bottom  as 
if  Winter  were  at  the  door.    The 


69 


birds  looked  round  under  the 
leafage  and  stared  with  fright- 
ened eyes. 

And  the  Prince  of  Summer 
was  no  longer  all  light  and  sun- 
shine. Gradually,  as  the  clouds 
closed  up,  the  radiance  that 
flowed  from  him  was  extin- 
guished. At  last,  he  stood  at 
the  end  of  the  valley  like  a 
mighty  black  cloud  in  a  war- 
rior's form. 

Then  there  suddenly  came  a 
humming  over  the  hills  till  every 
breath  of  wind  had  left  them 
altogether.  The  trees  bent  low 
in  great  dismay;  the  river  rose 
and  leapt  away  like  a  horse  that 
rears  and  shies. 

Then  it  sounded  as  if  a  thou- 


70 


sand  light  feet  were  running 
over  the  ground:  it  was  the  first 
rain-drops  coming.  The  next 
moment,  the  rain  poured  down 
till  every  sound  was  drowned 
in  its  splashing. 

There  came  a  terrible  light- 
ning, which  made  everything 
visible,  but  which  dazzled  all 
eyes,  so  that  they  could  not  see. 
Then  came  the  blackest  darkness 
and  then  the  thunder,  till  the 
mountains  shook  again. 

But  through  the  thunder 
sounded  Summer's  accents;  and 
never  had  any  heard  so  loud  a 
voice : 

"It  is  I,  Summer,  who  am 
come  to  reign  over  the  land. 
Mine  is  the  thunder  that  roars 


<•    71     <• 


over  the  valley.  Hark  I  .  .  . 
The  echo  rolls  from  the  mount- 
ains; the  earth  rumbles  under 
my  foot:  it  is  Summer  coming." 

The  thunder  ceased,  but  the 
rain  kept  on  pouring.  And 
through  the  rain  spoke  Sum- 
mer's accents ;  and  never  had  any 
heard  so  soft  a  voice : 

"It  is  I,  Summer,  who  am 
come  to  reign  over  the  land. 
All  that  is  green  shall  be  greener 
still;  all  that  is  fair  shall  be  a 
thousand-fold  fairer.  The  scent 
of  the  flower  shall  be  sweeter 
yet;  and  the  sound  of  the  bird's 
trill  shall  be  deeper  and  fuller. 
The  days  shall  break  earlier  in 
the  East  and  be  lighter  and 
warmer;  the  nights  shall  be  cool 


<^     72     <- 


and  still;  and  there  shall  be  no 
end  to  the  joy  of  the  morning 
nor  to  the  evening's  peace." 

When  the  Prince  of  Summer 
had  spoken,  while  all  things  in 
the  valley  bowed  and  listened 
and  understood,  the  thunder 
ceased  and  the  rain  fell  no 
longer. 

Tall  and  straight  and  radiant. 
Summer  advanced  through  his 
kingdom. 

And,  wherever  he  came,  the 
clouds  parted  and  vanished  east 
and  west  behind  the  hills.  The 
sky  grew  clear  again  and  the 
drops  of  water  that  hung  on 
every  twig  and  every  blade  of 
grass  glistened  in  the  sunlight. 
The  flowers  opened,  the  birds 


<■    73     "*• 


came  out  from  under  the  leafage, 
the  stag  left  his  cover  and 
plunged  his  muzzle  into  the  wet 
grass. 

But,  when  the  last  cloud  was 
gone  and  the  sun  had  dried  up 
the  last  drop  of  water  and  every 
single  trace  of  the  storm  was  re- 
moved, nevertheless  tilings  were 
nowhere  the  same  as  they  were 
before  the  thunder  passed  over 
the  valley. 

More  flowers  came  and  new 
flowers;  and  their  scent  was 
sweeter  and  their  colour  brighter, 
even  as  the  Prince  of  Summer 
had  said.  But  it  was  as  though 
they  had  all  become  more  seri- 
ous. They  no  longer  swung  so 
carelessly    on    their    stalks,    no 


"*•     74     "*■ 


longer  scattered  their  scent  so 
lavishly  to  every  wind.  But, 
when  a  bee  or  a  butterfly  came 
flitting  up,  all  the  flowers 
stretched  their  necks  and  shed  a 
redoubled  radiance  and  fra- 
grance and  cried  their  honey 
aloud,  so  that  the  insects  might 
come  along  and  take  their  pollen- 
ware. 

Nor  did  the  bees  themselves 
have  so  good  a  time  as  in  the 
green  days  of  Spring.  At 
home,  in  the  hive,  their  queen 
was  laying  eggs  by  the  hundred; 
and  they  had  to  sweat  wax  and 
build  cells  and  fetch  honey  and 
pollen,  till  they  were  nigh  dying 
with  exhaustion.  And  there 
were  so  many  flowers  that  the 


<•     75     -*• 


bees  did  not  know  where  to 
turn.  In  the  wood,  they  got 
drunk  on  the  sweet  scent  of  the 
linden-blossom  and  the  honey- 
suckle; beside  the  brook,  they 
fluttered  plump  into  the  red  cap 
of  the  popj)y.  Not  one  of  them 
was  man  enough  to  say  no  to 
those  flower-cups :  the  thistle  and 
the  burdock,  the  dandelion  and 
the  wild  chamomile,  all  kept 
them  hard  at  work.  Did  they 
come  to  the  hedge,  the  elder- 
berry called  them;  would  they 
rest  in  the  grass,  the  bindweed 
offered  them  its  chalice  with 
fresh  dew-drops  on  the  edge  and 
honey  at  the  bottom;  did  they 
fly  across  the  lake,  the  water-lily 
lay  with  her  white  and  yellow 


76 


blossoms  and  nodded  on  the  si- 
lent waters. 

And  even  as  with  the  flowers 
and  the  bees,  so  it  was  every- 
where. Not  anywhere  were 
things  as  they  had  been. 

However  many  trills  the  siskin 
struck  for  his  sweetheart,  how- 
ever fondly  he  put  his  head  upon 
one  side,  however  eagerly  he 
pecked  at  her  with  his  beak,  she 
minded  not  a  jot,  but  stared 
silently  and  seriously  before  her : 

"There's  that  nest,"  she  said, 
at  last. 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  replied 
the  siskin  and  looked  as  though 
he  had  never  thought  of  any- 
thing else. 

"Yes,  but  it's  urgent!"  said 


♦    77    ♦ 


she.  "We  shall  have  the  eggs 
before  the  week  is  out." 

Then  they  found  a  place 
where  they  felt  like  building  and 
together  they  set  to  work. 

But,  wherever  they  hopped 
after  a  twig  for  which  they  had 
a  use,  already  other  birds  were 
hopping  on  the  same  errand  and, 
wherever  they  flew  after  a 
feather  in  the  air,  they  had  to 
hurry,  lest  another  should  snatch 
it  first.  If  he  got  hold  of  a 
lovely  long  horsehair,  there 
would  never  fail  to  be  some  one 
pulling  at  the  other  end;  and,  if 
she  flew  out  for  some  nice  moss 
which  she  had  noticed  the  day 
before,  she  could  be  sure  that 
her  fair  neighbour  had  been  to 


♦     78    <• 


fetch  it  that  morning.  For 
every  young  couple  in  the  wood 
was  out  after  furniture  and 
fittings. 

At  last,  the  two  siskins  got 
their  house  built;  and  the  other 
birds  did  the  same.  There  was 
not  in  the  wood  a  bush  so  poor 
but  it  carried  a  nest  in  its  bosom. 
In  every  nest  lay  eggs;  and  on 
the  eggs  sat  a  smart  little  bird- 
wife  looking  round  watchfully 
with  her  black  eyes  and  boring 
herself  most  wretchedly.  Every 
moment,  her  husband  would 
come  home  with  a  fly  or  a  worm 
or  some  other  good  nourishing 
food,  as  he  had  promised  and  as 
his  duty  bade  him.  When  even- 
ing came,  all  the  bird-husbands 


<•    79    "^ 


sat  faithfully  on  the  edge  of  the 
nest  and  sang,  each  with  his  little 
beak,  so  touchingly  and  prettily 
that  their  wives  thought  it  de- 
lightful to  be  alive. 

But  up  in  the  tall  trees  the 
crow- wives  sat  on  their  eggs; 
and  on  the  cliffs  the  eagles*  con- 
sorts lay  brooding. 

Everywhere  they  were  busy 
preparing  for  the  babies ;  but  not 
everywhere  was  there  so  pretty 
a  family-life  as  in  the  bushes  in 
the  wood. 

True,  Mrs.  Fox  had  her  hole 
deep  down  in  the  hill-side,  where 
her  youngsters  lay  as  snug  as  in 
their  grandmother's  chest  of 
drawers.  But  the  timid  hare 
dropped  her  young  ones  in  the 


•^    80     "*• 


ditch  and  had  no  notion  where 
their  unnatural  father  was  gob- 
bling his  evening  cabbage. 

And  the  cuckoo  flew  round 
restlessly  and  slipped  his  eggs 
stealthily  into  the  others'  nests 
and  cried  most  bitterly  because 
he  could  never,  never  build  a 
home  for  himself.  Nor  was  the 
snail  much  better  off;  for  she 
could  do  no  more  than  make  a 
hole  in  the  ground,  put  her  eggs 
into  it  and  commend  them  to 
Providence. 

The  little  brown  mice  had  their 
parlours  full  of  tiny,  blind  child- 
ren, who  could  never  wish  for 
kinder  or  more  thoughtful  par- 
ents. But  Goody  Mole,  down 
in  the  earth,  had  to  eat  her  own 


<•     81     "*• 


dirty  husband  as  soon  as  she  had 
had  her  babies,  lest  he  should  eat 
the  little  innocents  for  his  lunch. 
And  the  gnat-husbands  danced 
heedlessly  in  the  evening  air, 
as  though  they  had  nothing  bet- 
ter to  do,  while  their  respective 
spouses,  in  great  affliction,  laid 
their  eggs  in  the  water. 

But  the  brown  frog  sat  by  the 
ditch-side  and  wrung  her  hands 
in  speechless  horror  at  the 
strange  tadpole-children  which 
she  had  brought  into  the  world. 

And  the  sun  shone  and  the  rain 
fell  on  those  who  were  comfort- 
able indoors  and  on  those  who 
had  to  take  things  as  they  came. 
Goody  Mole  worked  for  two,  like 
the  decent  widow  that  she  was; 


<•  *82     <- 


and  the  hare  suckled  her  young 
so  that  they  might  gain  strength 
quickly  and  leap  away  from  the 
eagle  and  the  fox.  The  cuckoo 
uttered  his  sorrowful  note  among 
the  tall  trunks  of  the  forest ;  and 
Mother  Gnat  let  her  eggs  sail 
the  pond  for  themselves,  since 
that  was  all  that  she  could  do  for 
them,  after  which  she  settled  in 
the  stag's  ear  and  helped  herself 
to  a  drop  of  blood  to  repay  her 
for  her  exertions. 

But  the  Prince  of  Summer 
was  with  them  all.  He  knew  of 
the  smallest  gnat  and  forgot  not 
a  flower  in  the  meadow: 

"It  is  well!"  he  said. 

And,  every  day  that  passed, 
his    purple    cloak    beamed,    the 


<•     83     ^ 


golden  girdle  around  his  loins 
blazed,  the  red  rose  in  his  girdle 
glowed. 

Then  it  happened  that  a  shock- 
ing cry  rang  out  through  the  for- 
est. It  was  so  loud  that  every- 
thing around  grew  silent  and  all 
listened  to  hear  what  it  could  be. 

The  one  who  had  uttered  the 
cry  was  an  old,  gnarled  oak  who 
stood  among  a  crowd  of  fine 
young  beeches: 

"Prince  of  Summer,  come  to 
my  aid!"  he  shouted.  "Don't 
you  see  that  the  beeches  are 
stifling  me?  Before  you  have 
made  your  entry  twice  more  into 
the  valley,  I  shall  be  dead  and 
buried  under  their  shade," 


<-     84     "*• 


"I  see  it,"  said  Summer, 
calmly. 

"You  see  it?"  cried  the  oak 
and  wrung  his  old  branches  in 
despair.  "You  see  it  and  you 
don't  help  me?  Woe  is  me,  to 
have  a  prince  like  you!  Then 
Spring  indeed  was  a  different 
sort  of  gracious  lord  and  king. 
There  was  not  in  the  forest  a 
stick  so  dry  but  he  readily  gave 
it  a  green  leaf  or  two." 

But  the  Prince  of  Summer 
looked  with  indifference  at  the 
old,  dying  oak : 

"I  was  never  responsible  for 
Spring's  green  promises,"  he  re- 
plied. "I  reign  here  according 
to  my  own  law;  and  the  law  or- 
dains that  you  shall  die.     What 


<■     85     "*■ 


do  I  want  with  a  fagot  like  you 
in  my  healthy  forests?" 

Then  he  turned  to  the  beeches 
and  said: 

"I  gave  you  strength  to  grow. 
I  give  you  twofold  strength  and 
tenfold.  Hasten  and  put  that 
old  gentleman  to  rest!" 

And  the  beeches  shot  up  aloft 
and  threw  their  shade  over  the 
oak  till  he  died. 

But  there  were  others  besides 
the  oak  that  made  their  com- 
plaints to  the  Prince  of  Summer. 
Every  day  and  eveiy  hour  of 
the  day  there  was  one  that  threw 
up  the  sponge  and  shrieked  for 
help. 

There  was  the  grass,  which 
cried  because  the  stag  ate  it. 


<"     86     <^ 


"I  made  your  number  as  the 
sand  of  the  sea,"  said  the  Prince 
of  Summer.  "I  gave  you  hardi- 
ness and  a  quick  growth;  I  gave 
you  the  wind  to  carry  your  seed 
across  the  meadows.  For  you  I 
have  done  enough." 

And  there  was  the  stag,  who 
bellowed  because  the  best  grass 
was  gone.  To  him  the  Prince 
of  Summer  said : 

"I  gave  you  swift  legs,  so  that 
you  could  bound  where  the  grass 
is  greenest  in  the  forest.  If 
your  legs  are  tired,  then  lay  you 
down  to  die;  and  the  hind's 
fawns  shall  walk  in  your  foot- 
steps." 

There  were  the  fish  in  the 
river,  who  ate  one  another's  eggs 


87 


and  young  and  then  blamed 
Summer. 

"What  would  you  have  me 
do?"  asked  Summer.  "I  gave 
you  power  to  lay  a  thousand 
eggs  and  a  thousand  more  and 
a  thousand  besides.  However 
many  may  die,  there  will  always 
be  fish  in  the  river." 

And  there  were  the  flowers 
that  sighed  because  there  were 
not  bees  enough  to  carry  off 
their  pollen.  But  the  Prince  of 
Summer  said: 

"I  presented  you  with  honey 
to  give  to  the  bees  for  a  messen- 
ger's fee  and  taught  you  to  hide 
it  so  that  they  must  take  your 
pollen  into  the  bargain.  I  gave 
you  delicious  perfumes  and  beau- 


•*•     88     '*' 


tiful  colours  wherewith  to  entice 
the  bees.  You  call  them  and 
they  come;  and  the  one  that 
promises  most  and  keeps  its 
promise  best  is  the  one  they  obey 
most  quickly." 

But,  every  time  that  Summer 
spoke,  there  was  a  new  one  that 
wailed : 

"There  are  too  few  worms!" 
cried  the  siskin,  who  now  had 
four  youngsters  in  the  nest  and 
was  wearing  himself  to  a  skele- 
ton in  the  effort  to  provide  food 
for  them.  "We  are  starving. 
We  can  never  hold  out !" 

"There  are  too  many  birds!" 
whined  the  worm  in  the  mould. 
"If  one  but  stirs  out  for  a  mo- 
ment, one  is  eaten  up." 


<'     89     ^ 


"Deliver  us  from  the  stork!" 
prayed  the  frogs. 

"Provide  more  frogs,"  cried 
the  stork,  "or  I  shall  have  to  go 
elsewhere!" 

And  the  beech  complained  be- 
cause the  cockchafer  ate  its 
leaves ;  and  the  crows  could  never 
get  cockchafers  enough.  The 
bees  whined  about  the  flowers, 
as  the  flowers  had  done  about 
the  bees:  they  considered  that  it 
was  much  too  hard  to  get  hold  of 
the  honey.  The  hare  ran  away 
from  the  fox  and  fell  into  the 
talons  of  the  eagle.  The  young 
ash  in  the  hedge  raised  his  voice 
to  heaven  against  the  honey- 
suckle that  twined  itself  right 
up  to  his  top. 


<•    90 


But  the  Prince  of  Summer 
stood  tall  and  straight  and  radi- 
ant and  surveyed  his  kingdom. 
His  smile  was  wide  and  bright 
and  there  was  no  pity  in  his  hard 
eyes.  He  raised  his  hand,  as 
though  to  bid  them  be  silent,  but 
none  heeded  him;  and  the  noise 
increased  hourly  and  the  land 
was  full  of  cries  and  lamenta- 
tions. 

Then  he  knitted  his  brows  and 
called  the  thick  black  clouds 
from  behind  the  hills.  They 
came  at  his  beck;  fear  lay  over 
the  valley  again;  and  the  cries 
were  silenced.  The  thunder 
rolled  till  the  mountains  shook, 
the  lightning  flamed,  the  rain 
poured. 


91 


And  Summer's  great  voice 
sounded  through  the  air: 

"Know  you  not  that  I  am  a 
lord  as  stern  as  Winter,  whom 
you  hate  ?  He  reigns  over  death, 
as  I  do  over  life.  I  will  be 
obeyed,  like  him;  like  him,  I 
crush  whatever  resists  me.  You 
thought  I  was  a  minstrel  like 
Spring,  who  sang  you  to  life  and 
longing  and  went  off  over  the 
mountains.  But  I  am  greater 
than  Spring.  For  I  satisfied 
your  desires  with  food  and  made 
you  subject  to  the  law  of  life. 
But  the  law  Is  this,  that  that 
which  is  hale  shall  stand,  but  that 
which  is  sick  shall  fall.  There- 
fore I  made  my  days  long,  that 
you   should  become  green  and 


<•    92    "^ 


grow.  Therefore  I  gave  you 
strength  and  power  in  a  thousand 
ways,  the  smallest  gnat  as  well  as 
the  tallest  tree  in  the  forest,  so 
that  you  should  fight  and  grow 
up.  Therefore  I  gave  you  chil- 
dren, so  that  you  should  never 
perish.  And  whoso  obeys  my 
law  and  well  employs  the  day, 
upon  him  the  sunlight  of  my 
eyes  shall  fall.  His  strength 
shall  reign,  his  children  shall 
bear  his  name  throughout  the 
ages.  But  whoso  flinches,  he 
shall  die." 

The  Prince  of  Summer  was 
silent  and  the  thunder  rolled 
away  slowly  over  the  mountains. 
The  clouds  parted  and  vanished ; 
it     became    night.     The     stars 


<►     93     <• 


shone  bright  and  friendly,  the 
trees  drij^ped  and  all  was  still. 

But,  next  morning,  the  valley- 
awoke  to  fiercer  fighting  and 
louder  cries  than  ever. 

For  there  was  not  a  bird  in 
the  forest  nor  a  flower  in  the 
meadow  but  had  heard  what  the 
Prince  of  Summer  said  and  un- 
derstood it.  They  all  knew  what 
it  meant  and  armed  themselves, 
before  sunrise,  for  the  fight  for 
hfe. 

The  siskin  and  his  wife  hunted 
twice  as  eagerly  in  the  thicket; 
the  little  brown  mice  dug  twice 
as  dihgently;  the  flowers  re- 
doubled their  radiance  and  their 
fragrance.  Goody  Mole  rum- 
maged the  ground  in  every  di- 


94 


rection ;  the  stag  found  a  meadow 
where  the  grass  stood  high  and 
green.  The  beech  put  forth  new 
twigs  in  the  place  of  those  which 
the  cockchafers  had  eaten;  and 
the  ash  stretched  its  bows  right 
through  the  honeysuckle  to  show 
Summer  that  it  was  alive. 

Thousands  died,  but  none 
heard  their  death-moan,  because 
of  the  din  that  arose  from  the 
fight  of  the  living.  And  it  was 
as  though  more  lives  came  for 
each  life  that  was  extinguished. 

The  siskin's  youngsters  hopped 
out  of  the  nest  and  fell  from  the 
branch  and  fluttered  up  again. 
The  crow's  children  screamed  in 
the  tree-tops;  the  young  eagles 
flew  from  the  rock  to  try  their 


<'    95     <• 


wings.  The  starling  drove  her 
first  brood  from  the  nest  and  laid 
new  eggs;  the  frog  lived  to 
see  her  degenerate  young  grow 
quite  respectable  before  she  her- 
self was  swallowed  by  the  stork. 

Never  had  the  fish  swarmed  so 
thickly  in  the  river,  never  had  the 
beech's  leaves  been  so  broad, 
never  had  the  copsewood  been  so 
dense,  never  had  the  flowei-s 
pressed  so  close  together  in  the 
hedge. 

And  the  Prince  of  Summer 
stood  amidst  his  kingdom  taller 
and  straighter  and  more  radiant 
than  ever: 

"It  is  well!"  he  said. 

Then  evening  came.  The 
crows  flew  home  from  their  de- 


<■    96    <• 


bating-club  in  the  old,  dead  oak; 
the  little  birds  in  the  thicket 
sang  their  evensong  in  chorus, 
but  made  it  short,  for  they  were 
very  tired.  The  flowers  shut 
their  petals;  the  bees  closed  the 
door  of  their  hive.  The  moth 
flew  out  on  her  soft,  grey  wings. 
The  stars  peeped  out,  ever  more 
and  ever  larger. 

Carefully,  the  mist  raised  its 
head  and  spied  and  listened. 
And,  when  all  was  still,  it 
welled  forth,  white  and  grey  and 
billowy  and  noiseless.  Now  it 
lay  quiet  and  dreamed,  now  it 
danced  its  queer  dances  over 
the  meads.  It  peeped  into  the 
wood,  where  the  lime-tree  was 
shedding  its  perfume;  it  glided 


<■    91     ^ 


down  to  the  river,  which  ran  and 
ran  and  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
darkness. 

But,  suddenly,  from  the  edge 
of  the  wood,  a  long  and  jubilant 
trill  rang  out  over  the  valley: 

Weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  ,  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a 
.  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  ,  .  weet ! 

The  mist  stopped  and  listened. 
The  stag  raised  his  head  in  the 
meadow,  the  birds  opened  their 
sleepy  eyes  and  answered  with  a 
little  chirp. 

Weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a 
.  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet ! 

It  was  the  nightingale,  who 
sang: 

Now  bosky  darkness  grows. 

The  gradual  summer-night  bestows 


98 


Faint  starlight  on  each  hollow. 
The  merry  little  swallow 
Has  hied  him  to  repose. 
Weet-a.  .  .weet-a.  .  .weet-a.  .  .weet-a 

.  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet ! 
While  now  the  moon  through  Heaven 

sails 
And  all  is  still,  blithe  nightingales 
With  hedgerow  music  follow. 

Weet-a.  .  .weet-a.  .  .weet-a.  .  .weet-a 

.  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet-a .  .  .  weet ! 
In  sleepy  clusters  gleaming, 

White  elders  sigh,  red  roses  start, 
Forget-me-nots  lie  dreaming. 

They  dream  of  summer  all  night 

long 
Whose  splendour  thrills  that  joy- 
ous song 
In  mellow  sweetness  streaming 

From  the  green  thicket's  heart.  .  .  . 


AUTUMN 


<"    101     <- 


CHAPTER    IV 
Autumn 

The  loveliest  things  of  Autumn's  pack 

In  his  mottled  coffers  lay: 
Red  mountain-berries. 
Hips  sweet  as  cherries. 
Sloes  blue  and  black 

He  hung  upon  every  spray. 

On  the  top  of  the  hills  in  the 
West  stood  the  Prince  of  Au- 
tumn and  surveyed  the  land  with 
his  serious  eyes. 

His  hair  and  beard  were 
dashed  with  grey  and  there  were 
wrinkles  on  his  forehead.  But 
he  was  good  to  look  at  still  and 


102 


straight  and  strong.  His  splen- 
did cloak  gleamed  red  and  green 
and  brown  and  yellow  and 
flapped  in  the  wind.  In  his 
hand  he  held  his  horn. 

He  smiled  sadly  and  stood  a 
while  and  listened  to  the  fighting 
and  the  singing  and  the  cries. 
Then  he  raised  his  head,  put  the 
horn  to  his  mouth  and  blew  a 
lusty  flourish: 

Summer  goes  his  all-prospering  way, 

Autumn's  horn  is  calling. 
Heather  dresses  the  brown  hill-clay, 
Winds  whip  crackling  across  the  bay, 

Leaves  in  the  grove  keep  falling. 

All  the  trees  of  the  forest 
shook  from  root  to  top,  them- 
selves not  knowing  why.    All  the 


♦     103     <- 


birds  fell  silent  together.  The 
stag  in  the  glade  raised  his 
antlers  in  surprise  and  listened. 
The  poppy's  scarlet  petals  flew 
before  the  wind. 

But  high  on  the  mountains 
and  on  the  bare  hills  and  low 
down  in  the  bog,  the  heather 
burst  forth  and  blazed  purple 
and  glorious  in  the  sun.  And 
the  bees  flew  from  the  faded 
flowers  of  the  meadow  and  hid 
themselves  in  the  heather-fields. 

But  Autumn  put  his  horn  to 
his  mouth  again  and  blew : 

Autumn  lords  it  with  banners  bright 

Of  garish  leaves  held  o'er  him, 
Quelling  Summer's  eternal  fight, 
Heralding  Winter,  wild  and  white, 
While  the  blithe  birds  flee  before 
him. 


<►     104     <• 


The  Prince  of  Summer 
stopped  where  he  stood  in  the 
valley  and  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
hills  in  the  West.  And  the 
Prince  of  Autumn  took  the  horn 
from  his  mouth  and  bowed  low 
before  him. 

''Welcome!"  said  Summer. 

He  took  a  step  towards  him 
and  no  more,  as  befits  one  who  is 
the  greater.  But  the  Prince 
of  Autumn  came  down  over  the 
hills  and  again  bowed  low. 

They  walked  through  the  val- 
ley hand  in  hand.  And  so 
radiant  was  Summer  that,  wher- 
ever they  passed,  none  was 
aware  of  Autumn's  presence. 
The  notes  of  his  horn  died  away 
in  the  air ;  and  one  and  all  recov- 


<•     105     <• 


ered  from  the  shudder  that  had 
passed  over  them.  The  trees 
and  birds  and  flowers  came  to 
themselves  again  and  whispered 
and  sang  and  fought.  The  river 
flowed,  the  rushes  murmured,  the 
bees  continued  their  summer 
orgy  in  the  heather. 

But,  wherever  the  princes 
stopped  on  their  progress 
through  the  valley,  it  came  about 
that  the  foliage  turned  yellow  on 
the  side  where  Autumn  was.  A 
little  leaf  fell  from  its  stalk  and 
fluttered  away  and  dropped  at 
his  feet.  The  nightingale  ceased 
singing,  though  it  was  eventide; 
the  cuckoo  was  silent  and  flapped 
restlessly  through  the  woods ;  the 
stork    stretched   himself   in   his 


<-     106    '^ 


nest  and  looked  towards  the 
South. 

But  the  princes  took  no  heed. 

"Welcome!"  said  Summer 
again.  "Do  you  remember  your 
promise?" 

"I  remember,"  answered  Au- 
tumn. 

The  Prince  of  Summer 
stopped  and  looked  out  over  the 
kingdom  where  the  noise  was 
gradually  subsiding: 

"Do  you  hear  them?"  he  asked. 
"They  must  die  and  they  do  not 
know  it.  Now  do  you  take 
them  into  your  gentle  keeping." 

"I  shall  bring  your  produce 
home,"  said  Autumn.  "I  shall 
watch  carefully  over  them  that 
dream,  I  shall  cover  up  lovingly 


♦     107    •*• 


them  that  are  to  sleep  in  the 
mould.  I  will  warn  them  thrice 
of  Winter's  coming." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Smnmer. 

They  walked  in  silence  for  a 
time,  while  night  came  forth. 

*'The  honeysuckle's  petals  fell 
when  you  blew  your  horn,"  said 
Summer.  "Some  of  my  child- 
ren will  die  at  the  moment 
when  I  leave  the  valley.  But 
the  nightingale  and  the  cuckoo 
and  the  stork  I  shall  take  with 
me." 

Again  the  two  princes  walked 
in  silence.  It  was  quite  still; 
only  the  owls  hooted  in  the  old 
dead  oak. 

"You  must  send  my  birds 
after  me,"  said  Summer. 


<-     108     <• 


"I  shall  not  forget,"  replied 
Autumn. 

Then  the  Prince  of  Summer 
raised  his  hand  in  farewell  and 
bade  Autumn  take  possession  of 
the  kingdom : 

"I  shall  go  to-night,"  he  said. 
"And  none  will  know  save  you. 
My  splendour  will  linger  in  the 
valley  for  a  while,  so  that  you 
may  come  more  gently  to  those 
to  whom  you  bring  death.  And 
by-and-by,  when  I  am  far  away 
and  my  reign  is  forgotten,  the 
memory  of  me  will  revive  once 
more  with  the  sun  and  the  pleas- 
ant days." 

Then  he  strode  away  in  the 
night. 


109 


But  from  the  high  tree-top 
came  the  stork  on  his  long  wings ; 
and  the  cuckoo  fluttered  out  of 
the  tall  woods;  and  the  nightin- 
gale flew  from  the  thicket  with 
his  full-grown  young. 

The  air  was  filled  with  the  soft 
murmuring  of  wings. 

The  Siskin  couple  sat  and 
chatted  on  the  edge  of  the  empty- 
nest: 

"Do  you  remember  the  day 
when  I  courted  you?"  he  asked. 
"I  had  preened  and  smartened 
myself  as  best  I  could  and  you 
also  looked  sweet.  The  beech 
had  just  come  out:  I  never  saw 
the  wood  so  green  in  all  my  life !" 

"How  you   sang!"   said  she. 


->     110     <" 


"Sing  like  that  again;  then  per- 
haps I  will  accept  you  once 
more." 

But  the  siskin  sadly  shook  his 
head: 

"My  voice  is  gone,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  remember  when  we 
built  the  nest?"  she  asked,  a  little 
later.  "How  snug  it  was  and 
how  nice !  I  shall  never  have  so 
fine  a  house  again.  Just  look 
how  ugly  and  dilapidated  it  is!" 

"The  young  ones  did  that,"  he 
replied. 

"Yes,  but  do  you  remember 
the  morning  when  they  came 
out  of  the  eggs?"  she  asked;  and 
her  small  black  eyes  beamed. 
"How  sweet  they  were  and  how 
naked  and  brown!    I  could  not 


♦    111    "» 


leave  them  for  a  minute  but  they 

screamed." 

"And    then    they    got    their 

feathers!"  he  said  and  strutted. 

"Grand  siskins,  all  four  of  them. 

Do    you     remember    the     day 

they   first   hopped    out   of   the 
nest?" 

She  remembered.  She  re- 
membered many  more  things 
and  reminded  him  of  them  all. 
And,  when  there  was  nothing 
left  to  say,  they  moved  closer  to 
each  other  and  sat  silent;  and 
each  apart  thought  of  the  old 
days. 

And  all  the  others  were  like 
the  siskins. 

The  flowers  bent  towards  one 
another  and  whispered  about  the 


<«     112     <- 


golden  time  when  they  stood 
with  a  bee  in  every  chalice.  So 
eager  were  they  to  tell  their 
stories  that  none  could  wait  for 
the  other  to  finish.  All  over  the 
meadow,  it  sounded : 

"Do  you  remember  .  .  .  ? 
Do  you  remember  .  .  .   ?" 

The  flies  and  the  bees  sat  for 
half  the  day  and  idled  and  talked 
intimately  and  cosily  of  the  beau- 
tiful summer  days  when  they 
hummed  and  buzzed  and  reigned 
in  the  meadow.  The  trees  waved 
their  branches  softly  to  one  an- 
other and  told  long  stories  of 
their  green  youth.  The  rushes 
put  their  brown  tips  together  and 
dreamt  the  whole  thing  over 
again.     The   little   brown   mice 


♦     113     <- 


sat  in  the  hedge,  In  the  evening 
sun,  and  told  the  children  the 
story  of  their  courtship. 

"Do  you  remember  .  .  .  ? 
Do  you  remember  .  .  .   ?" 

In  the  midst  of  the  valley 
stood  the  Prince  of  Autumn, 
with  his  horn  in  his  hand.  But 
none  saw  liim. 

Then  the  crow  flew  out  of  the 
wood  on  flapping  wings  and 
screamed : 

"Past!  Past!  How  can  you 
care  to  talk  of  those  old  things? 
It's  all  past!     Past!     Past!" 

Echo  sang  from  the  hills: 

"Past!     Past!     Past!" 

And  Echo  whispered  In  the 
rushes  and  hummed  in  the  river 
and  sounded  in  all  that  lived  in 


♦     114     -> 


the  land.  They  all  then  and 
there  understood  that  summer 
was  over.  They  stopped  in  the 
middle  of  their  stories  and  lis- 
tened and  chimed  in : 
"Past!  Past!  Past!" 
And  suddenly  they  all  saw  the 
Prince  of  Autumn,  as  he  stood 
there  in  the  midst  of  them,  in  his 
motley  cloak.  They  stared  at 
him  with  frightened  eyes  and  at 
one  another. 

But  he  put  his  horn  to  his 
mouth  and  blew  till  it  rang  over 
the  valley; 

Autumn's  horn  blew  a  lusty  chime, 
For  the  first  time,  for  the  first  time ! 

Interpret  well  its  warning: 
September  night. 
Breed  mushrooms  white, 


^    115     ■> 


Lay  midge  in  mould, 
Plait  bronze  with  gold 

For  green  tree-tops'  adorning. 

He  looked  over  the  valley  with 
his  serious  eyes.  But,  when  the 
last  echo  of  the  notes  had  died 
away,  he  spread  his  motley  cloak 
in  the  sun  and  laughed  and 
nodded. 

And,  while  the  sky  was  higher 
than  it  had  ever  been  and  the  air 
mild  and  the  lake  blue  and  the 
mountains  stood  out  clear  on  the 
horizon,  the  land  passed  duti- 
fully under  Autumn's  dominion. 

It  had  indeed  begun  on  the 
night  when  Summer  went  away, 
with  a  yellow  leaf  here  and  a 
brown  leaf  there,  but  none  had 
noticed  it.     Now  it  went  at  a 


116 


quicker  pace;  and,  as  time  wore 
on,  there  came  ever  more  colours 
and  greater  splendour. 

The  lime-trees  turned  bright 
yellow  and  the  beech  bronze,  but 
the  elder-tree  even  blacker  than  it 
had  been.  The  bell-flower  rang 
with  white  bells,  where  it  used 
to  ring  with  blue,  and  the  chest- 
nut-tree blessed  all  the  world 
with  its  five  yellow  fingers.  The 
mountain-ash  shed  its  leaves  that 
all  might  admire  its  pretty  ber- 
ries; the  wild  rose  nodded  with 
a  hundred  hips;  the  Virginia 
creeper  broke  over  the  hedge  in 
blazing  flames. 

The  moss  grew  soft  and  green ; 
and  the  toadstools  shot  up  in  the 
night.     Queer,  soft,  pale  crea- 


♦    117    ^ 


tures  they  were  and  poisonous 
and  envious  they  looked.  But 
some  of  them  had  a  scarlet  hat  on 
and  all  were  overjoyed  with  life. 

But  the  siskin  could  find  no 
flies  and  was  wailing  pitifully. 

"Then  go  away!"  said  the 
Prince  of  Autumn.  "Your  time 
is  over;  and  I  have  plenty  of 
birds  left." 

Away  flew  siskin  and  linnet 
and  many  with  them.  But  Au- 
tumn put  his  horn  to  his  mouth 
and  blew: 

The    loveliest    things    of    Autumn's 
pack 

In  his  motley  coffers  lay: 
Red  mountain-berries, 
Hips  sweet  as  cherries, 
Sloes  blue  and  black. 

He  hung  upon  every  spray* 


<•     118     '*' 


And  blackbird  and  thrush 
chattered  bhthely  in  the  copse- 
wood,  which  gleamed  with  ber- 
ries, and  a  thousand  sparrows 
kept  them  company. 

At  night,  it  was  quite  still. 
The  stag  went  into  the  meadow 
with  noiseless  steps  and  lifted  his 
antlers  and  reconnoitred.  The 
bird  sat  and  slept  somewhere 
with  his  head  under  his  wing; 
the  wind  dared  hardly  whisper 
among  the  faded  foliage.  The 
stars  twinkled  far  and  peace- 
fully. 


Then  the  leaves  fell. 
And,  as  they  broke  from  the 
branches    and    whirled    through 


<-    119    -*■ 


the  air  and  fell  to  the  ground, 
they  sighed  softly  and  filled  the 
forest  with  strange,  plaintive 
sounds.  But  none  could  hear 
them  who  had  not  seen  his  own 
holies  die. 

But,  next  morning,  those 
which  were  left  gleamed  bright- 
er still  and  spread  themselves 
and  laughed  in  the  sun,  as  if  they 
had  never  amused  themselves  so 
well.  The  birch  stood  flirting  on 
the  moor;  and  the  tiny  little 
plants  in  the  hedge  sported  their 
red  leaves.  The  beech  and  the 
oak  changed  one  thing  or  another 
in  their  dress  each  day,  till  they 
became  more  fantastic  than  ever. 
The  falling  leaves  flew  from  tree 
to  tree  and  remained  lying  there, 


<►     120     -> 


till  the  whole  at  last  became 
one  great  confusion. 

But  redder  than  the  reddest 
blazed  the  Virginia  creeper ;  and 
the  crows  made  such  a  din  every 
evening  in  the  old,  dead  oak  that 
you  could  not  hear  yourself 
speak.  The  thrushes  chattered, 
the  sparrows  screamed,  the  wind 
ran  from  one  to  the  other  and 
puffed  and  panted  to  add  to  the 
fun.  High  up  in  the  sky,  the 
sun  looked  gently  down  upon  it 
all. 

And  the  Prince  of  Autumn 
nodded  contentedly  and  let  his 
motley  cloak  flap  in  the  wind: 

"I  am  the  least  important  of 
the  four  seasons  and  am  scarcely 
lord  in  my  own  land,"  he  said. 


♦   121   ♦ 


"I  serve  two  jealous  masters  and 
have  to  please  them  both.  But 
my  power  extends  so  far,  that  I 
can  give  you  a  few  glad  days." 
Then  he  put  his  horn  to  his 
mouth  and  blew: 

To  the  valley  revellers  hie ! 

They  are  clad  in  autumnal  fancy- 
dresses, 
They  are  weary  of  green  and  faded 
tresses 
Summer     has     vanished,     Winter     is 
nigh — 
Hey  f ol-de-rol-day  for  Autumn ! 

The  beech  wears  a  coat  of  red, 
The  oak  grows  feeble,  his  strength 

is  shaken. 
Summer's  fine  birds  the  Devil  has 
taken ! 
The  bees   are   excused,  the  flies   are 
dead — 
Hey  fol-re-rol-day  for  Autumn  ! 


•*•     122     -> 


The  birch  that  was  ever  shy. 

Stands — look  ! — in       her       yellow 

smock  unbidden, 
With   scarcely  a  white,  lank  limb 
that's  hidden ! 
Green    pines    straddle    towards    the 
sky — 
Hey  f ol-re-rol-day  for  Autumn ! 

But,  just  as  the  gaiety  was  at 
its  height  and  the  land  full  of 
noise,  exactly  as  in  the  fairest 
days  of  summer  .  .  .  there  were 
two  that  mistook  the  time  of 
year! 

It  was  the  cherry-tree  for  one 
and  the  strawberry-plant  for 
another. 

They  felt  the  sun  shining  so 
very  warm  and  saw  how  every- 
thing rejoiced.  Then  they  for- 
got themselves  and  burst  forth 


<•     123     <■ 


anew.  Carefully,  they  opened 
their  white  flowers  and  shivered 
at  once,  for  it  was  colder  than 
they  had  thought. 

And,  when  the  dainty  white 
blossoms  spread  in  the  morning 
sun,  all  the  motley  trees  of  the 
wood  laughed  them  to  scorn. 
The  crows  fell  off  the  branches 
with  laughter,  the  sparrows 
shrieked:  one  and  all  considered 
it  the  best  notion  they  had  ever 
seen.  But  a  belated  bee  opened 
six  thousand  great  eyes  and  had 
an  apoplectic  fit,  because  she 
thought  she  had  taken  leave  of 
her  senses. 

The  Prince  of  Autumn 
looked  at  the  flowers  with  moist 
eyes  and  shook  his  head: 


♦     124     <- 


"You  poor  little  ninnies!"  he 
said,  sadly. 

But  the  Virginia  creeper 
flung  her  warm  red  arms  around 
them  and  said  that  they  were 
sweet. 

The  blossoms  thrived  and 
grew;  and  one  of  them  even 
put  forth  a  tiny  green  berry. 
And,  when  the  others  saw  that, 
they  gave  up  laughing  and  be- 
gan to  think  about  it.  The 
alder  looked  itself  up  and  down 
and  reflected  that  it  still  was 
quite  green;  and  the  birch  was 
nearly  sinking  into  the  ground 
for  shame  at  its  nakedness. 
The  old  frog  suddenly  said, 
"Quack !"  and  was  so  startled  at 
this  that  she  plunged  head  fore- 


->     125     -> 


most  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake. 
The  sparrow  suddenly  felt  lone- 
ly and  looked  round  fondly 
among  the  daughters  of  the 
land. 

But  the  beech  shook  up  a  heap 
of  brown  leaves  and  clung  con- 
vulsively to  those  which  were 
green: 

"It  may  be  possible,"  it  said 
to  itself  and,  then  and  there, 
put  out  three  new  shoots. 

But,  the  night  after  this  hap- 
pened, there  was  a  tremendous 
disturbance  up  on  the  mountain- 
peaks,  where  the  eternal  snows 
had  lain  both  in  Spring's  time 
and  Summer's.  It  sounded  like 
a  storm  approaching.  The  trees 
grew  frightened,  the  crows  were 


<-     126     ^ 


silent,  the  wind  held  its  breath. 

The  Prince  of  Autumn  bent 
forward  and  listened: 

"  Is  that  the  worst  you  can 
do?"  shouted  a  hoarse  voice 
through  the  darkness. 

Autumn  raised  his  head  and 
looked  straight  into  Winter's 
great,  cold  eyes. 

"Have  you  forgotten  the  bar- 
gain?" asked  Winter. 

"No,"  replied  Autumn.  "I 
have  not  forgotten  it.  But,  if 
they  must  die,  at  least  give  them 
leave  to  dance." 

"Have  a  care!"  shouted  Win- 
ter. 

The  whole  night  through,  it 
rumbled  and  tumbled  in  the 
mountains.     It  turned  so  bitter- 


127 


ly  cold  that  the  starhng  thought 
seriously  of  packing  up;  and 
even  the  red  creeper  turned  pale. 
When  the  sun  rose,  the  cherry- 
blossoms  and  strawberry-blos- 
soms hung  dead  upon  their 
stalks. 

The  distant  peaks  glittered 
with  new  snow. 

And  the  Prince  of  Autumn 
laughed  no  more.  He  looked 
out  earnestly  over  the  land  and 
the  wrinkles  in  his  forehead  grew 
deeper: 

"It  must  be  so  then!"  he  said. 

Then  he  blew  his  horn ; 

Autumn's  horn  blew  a  lusty  chime ; 
For  the  second  time,  for  the  second 
time ! 
Heed  well  the  call,  complying: 


♦     128     <■ 


Fling  seed  to  earth! 
Fill  sack's  full  girth! 
Plump  back  and  side! 
Pad  belt  and  hide! 

Hold  all  wings  close  for  flying! 

Then  suddenly  a  terrible 
bustle  arose  in  the  land.  For 
now  they  all  understood  that 
fortune  was  on  the  ebb;  and  all 
thought  that  there  was  some- 
thing they  had  forgotten  or 
something  they  were  not  ready 
with. 

Round  about  the  thicket,  the 
bushes  shouted  aloud: 

"Buy  my  hips!    Who'll  buy?" 

"Service-berries!  Service-ber- 
ries!    Fine  red  service-berries!" 

"Blackberries!  Fresh  black- 
berries I" 


129 


"Sloes!     Sloes!     Sloes!" 

And  the  thrush  and  the  black- 
bird swept  down  upon  them  and 
gorged  themselves  with  the  good 
berries  till  they  were  well  pro- 
vided for  their  journey.  The 
sparrows  ate  all  they  could  get 
down ;  the  crows  drove  the  others 
away  and  guzzled. 

"Quick!"  said  Autumn.  "Re- 
move that  finery!" 

The  poppy  and  the  bell- 
flower  and  the  pink  stood  thin 
and  dry  as  sticks,  with  their 
heads  full  of  seed.  The  dande- 
lion had  presented  each  one  of 
his  seeds  with  a  sweet  little  para- 
chute. 

"Come,  dear  Wind,  and  shake 
us!"  said  the  poppy. 


<-     130     <' 


"Fly  away  with  my  seeds, 
Wind!"  said  the  dandehon. 

And  the  wind  hastened  to  do 
as  they  asked. 

But  the  beech  cunningly 
dropped  his  shaggy  fruit  on  to 
the  hare's  fur;  and  the  fox  got 
one  also  on  Ms  red  coat.  Thus 
they  carried  the  beech's  children 
out  into  the  world  without  hav- 
ing the  least  suspicion  what  they 
were  doing. 

"Quick,  now!"  said  Autumn. 
"There's  no  time  here  to  waste." 

The  little  brown  mice  filled 
their  parlours  from  floor  to  ceil- 
ing with  nuts  and  beech-mast 
and  acorns.  The  hedgehog  had 
already  eaten  himself  so  fat  that 
he  could  hardly  lower  his  quills, 


<-     131     <■ 


but  still  loitered  around  all  night 
to  get  more  food.  The  hare  and 
the  fox  and  the  stag  put  on  clean 
white  woollen  things  under  their 
coats.  The  starling  and  the 
thrush  and  the  blackbird  saw  to 
their  downy  clothing  and  exer- 
cised their  wings  for  the  long 
journey.  The  sparrows  were 
envious  that  they  could  not  go 
too;  as  for  the  crows,  nothing 
seemed  to  hurt  them;  and  the 
lapwing  sat  on  his  tussock  and 
looked  lonely. 

But  the  bat  went  right  away 
and  hung  himself  on  his  own 
hindlegs  deep  down  in  a  hollow 
tree. 

"Quick!"  said  Autumn.  "It 
will  be  over  in  a  week." 


■^     132     ■*■ 


The  sun  hid  himself  behind 
the  clouds  and  did  not  appear 
for  many  days. 

It  began  to  rain.  The  wind 
quickened  its  pace :  it  dashed  the 
rain  over  the  meadow,  whipped 
the  river  into  foam  and  whistled 
uncannily  through  the  trunks  in 
the  forest.  The  leaves  fell  with- 
out ceasing. 

"Now  the  song  is  finished!" 
said  the  Prince  of  Autumn. 

Then  he  put  his  horn  to  his 
mouth  and  blew: 

Autumn's  horn  blew  a  lusty  chime. 
For  the  last  time,  for  the  last  time ! 
Ways  close  when  need  is  sorest: 
Land-birds,  fly  clear! 
Plunge,  frogs,  In  mere ! 


<►     133     -> 


Bee,  lock  your  lair! 
Take  shelter,  bear! 

Fall,  last  leaf  in  the  forest ! 

And  then  it  was  over. 

It  all  went  at  such  a  rate  that 
one  could  hardly  tell  how  it  be- 
gan or  how  it  ended. 

The  birds  flew  from  the  land 
in  flocks.  The  starling  and 
the  lapwing,  the  thrush  and  the 
blackbird  all  migrated  to  the 
South.  Every  night,  the  spar- 
row heard  their  chirping  and  the 
fluttering  of  their  wings  in  the 
air. 

Every  morning,  before  the 
sun  rose,  the  wind  tore  through 
the  forest  and  pulled  the  last 
leaves  off  the  trees.  Every  day, 
the  wind  blew  stronger,  snapped 


->     134     ^ 


great  branches,  swept  the  with- 
ered leaves  together  into  heaps, 
scattered  them  again  and,  at 
last,  laid  them  like  a  soft,  thick 
carpet  over  the  whole  floor  of  the 
forest.  Here  and  there,  a  single 
leaf  hung  on  a  twig  and  resisted 
and  refused  to  die.  But  this 
was  only  a  short  respite,  for,  if 
it  did  not  fall  to-day,  it  fell  to- 
morrow. 

The  hedgehog  crawled  so  far 
into  a  hole  under  a  heap  of 
stones  that  he  remained  caught 
between  two  of  them  and  could 
move  neither  forwards  nor  back- 
wards. The  sparrow  took  lodg- 
ings in  a  deserted  swallow's-nest ; 
the  frogs  went  to  the  bottom  of 
the  pond  for  good,  settled  in  the 


">     135     <- 


mud,  with  the  tips  of  their  noses 
up  in  the  water,  and  prepared 
for  whatever  might  come.  The 
waves  loosened  the  water-lily's 
stalks  and  washed  them  clean 
away;  the  rushes  snapped  in  the 
storm  and  drifted  with  the 
stream. 

The  Prince  of  Autumn  stood 
and  gazed  over  the  land  to  see  if 
it  was  bare  and  waste,  so  that 
Winter's  storms  might  come 
buffeting  at  will  and  the  snow 
lie  where  it  pleased. 

And  so  empty  was  it  that  the 
sun  rose  later,  morning  after 
morning,  and  went  earlier  to  bed, 
evening  after  evening,  because 
he  did  not  think  that  he  had  any- 
thing to  shine  upon. 


136 


"Now  I'm  coming!"  roared 
Winter  from  the  mountains. 
"My  clouds  are  bursting  with 
snow;  and  my  storms  are  break- 
ing loose." 

"I  have  one  day  left,"  said 
Autumn. 

He  walked  across  the  meadow, 
where  already  the  grass  was  yel- 
low and  the  flowers  gone,  except 
the  little  white  daisy,  which  can 
never  get  done  in  time.  Then  he 
went  into  the  naked  wood.  He 
peeped  at  the  hedgehog,  smiled 
at  the  little  brown  mice,  who 
carried  the  shells  neatly  and  de- 
cently outside  the  parlour  each 
time  they  had  had  a  nut-feast, 
patted  the  strong  beech-trunks 
and  asked  them  if  they  could 


137 


stand  the  storm  and  nodded  to 
the  jolly  crows. 

Then  he  stopped  before  the 
old,  dead  oak  and  looked  at  the 
ivy  that  clambered  right  up  to 
the  top  and  spread  her  green 
leaves  as  if  Winter  had  no  ex- 
istence at  all. 

And,  while  he  looked  at  it  with 
eyes  that  were  gentle  and  moist 
like  Spring's,  the  ivy-flowers 
blossomed.  They  sat  right  at 
the  top  and  rocked  in  the  wind, 
yellow-green  and  insignificant, 
but  just  as  good  flowers  as  any 
of  those  which  grew  in  Sum- 
mer's kingdom. 

"Now  I  can  restrain  my 
storms  no  longer!"  roared  Win- 
ter. 


♦     138    '> 


The  Prince  of  Autumn  bent 
his  head  and  listened.  He  could 
hear  the  storm  come  rushing 
down  over  the  mountains.  A 
snowflake  fell  upon  his  motley 
cloak  .  .  .  and  another  .  .  . 
and  yet  another  .  .  . 

For  the  last  time,  he  put  his 
horn  to  his  mouth  and  blew  in 
sad  and  subdued  tones: 

Thou  greenest  plant  and  tardiest, 
Thou  fairest,  rarest,  hardiest, 

Bright  through  unending  hours ! 
Round    Summer,    Winter,    Autumn, 

Spring, 
Thy  vigorous  embraces  cling. 
Look!     Ivy  mine,  'tis  I  who  sing, 

'Tis  Autumn  wins  thy  flowers ! 

Then  he  went  away  in  the 
storm. 


WINTER 


<►    Ul    <• 


CHAPTER    V 
Winter 

TFee  snotr-birds,  rrhite  snotr-birds. 
White  snotr-birds,  tree  snorr-birds. 
Through  fields  skim  along! 

WiXTEE  was  on  the  mountains, 
but  his  face  was  hidden  by  tliick 
clouds  that  lay  in  wait,  ready  to 
burst  and  let  loose  all  the  e^^ 
that  was  in  them. 

Xow  and  again,  the  clouds 
parted  a  little.  But  that  was 
only  for  a  moment :  and.  when  it 
happened,  the  snow-clad  peaks 
glittered  in  the  sun  till  you  could 
look  at  nothing  else  and  could 
hardly   bear   to   look   at   them. 


->     142     ^ 


And,  even  when  the  storm  flew 
wildest  over  the  valley  and  the 
river  foamed  and  the  trees 
cracked  and  broke  and  fell,  even 
then  the  clouds  lay  thick  and 
close  before  the  face  of  Winter. 

Sometimes,  some  of  them  dis- 
solved into  mists,  which  swept 
down  upon  the  valley  and  filled 
it  quite.  But  they  were  differ- 
ent mists  from  those  which 
Spring  laid  over  the  land.  No 
violets  came  from  them;  in  their 
lap  were  no  crops  and  no  long- 
ing and  no  life.  They  were  as 
cold  as  if  there  were  no  sun  at 
all  behind  them. 

Sometimes,  it  rained,  in  a 
dense  and  endless  do^vnpour, 
day  after  day.    The  blast  dashed 


♦     143    "> 


the  rain  into  the  eyes  of  the 
hare  and  the  stag,  till  they  had 
to  hide  where  best  they  could 
and  turn  their  tails  to  the  wind. 
The  little  brown  mice  could 
hardly  put  their  noses  outside 
their  door;  and  the  sparrows  sat 
rumpled  and  disconsolate  under 
the  leafless  bushes.  But  the 
crows  rocked  undaunted  on  the 
tallest  twigs  and  held  their  beaks 
straight  to  the  wind,  so  that  it 
should  not  blow  up  under  their 
feathers. 

Sometimes,  it  snowed  as  well. 
But  it  was  a  stupid,  sluggish 
snow,  which  melted  the  moment 
that  it  touched  the  ground. 

At  night,  the  wind  hooted  in 
the  mountain-clefts  and  the  owl 


<•     144     •> 


in  the  wood.  The  withered 
leaves  ran  round  and  rustled 
like  ghosts.  The  boughs  of  the 
trees  swayed  sadly  to  and  fro,  to 
and  fro. 

And,  whether  it  snowed  or 
rained  or  only  misted,  whether 
it  were  day  or  night,  the  valley 
lay  ever  in  a  horrid  sludge  and 
just  as  many  clouds  hung  lurk- 
ing in  the  mountains.  The 
withered  blades  of  grass  eddied 
hopelessly  in  the  meadow.  The 
waves  flowed  bleak  and  cold  in 
the  river. 

Then,  one  night,  it  froze. 

The  slush  on  the  ground 
hardened  into  a  thin  crust,  which 
the  stag  stuck  his  hoof  through, 
but  the  hare  ran  safely  across  it. 


">     145     <- 


The  hedgehog  shivered  in  his 
dreams,  the  ivy-flowers  faded, 
the  puddles  got  ice  upon  them. 

And,  next  morning  early,  a 
thin  layer  of  snow  fell  over  the 
land.  The  sun  shone  again,  but 
far  and  cold;  and  the  clouds 
drifted  away. 

The  Prince  of  Winter  sat  on 
the  mountains :  an  old  man,  with 
white  hair  and  beard.  His 
naked  breast  was  shaggy, 
shaggy  his  legs  and  hands.  He 
looked  strong  and  wild,  with 
cold  stern  eyes. 

But  he  was  not  angry,  as 
when  Spring  drove  him  from  the 
valley  and  when  Autumn  did 
not  go  quickly  enough.  He 
looked   out   over   the   kingdom 


♦     146    ^ 


calmly,  for  now  he  Knew  that  it 
was  his.  And,  when  he  found 
anything  dead  or  empty  or  deso- 
late, he  plucked  at  his  great 
white  beard  and  gave  a  harsh  and 
satisfied  laugh. 

But  all  that  lived  in  the  land 
was  struck  with  terror  when  it 
looked  into  his  cold  eyes. 

The  trees  shook  in  their  thick 
bark  and  the  bushes  struck  their 
branches  together  in  consterna- 
tion. The  mouse  became  quite 
snow-blind,  when  she  peeped 
outside  the  door;  the  stag  looked 
mournfully  over  the  white 
meadow: 

"My  muzzle  can  still  break 
through  the  ice,  when  I  drink," 
he  said.     "I  can  still  scrape  the 


♦     147    ^ 


snow  to  one  side  and  find  a  tuft 
of  grass.  But,  if  things  go  on 
like  this  for  another  week,  then 
it's  all  up  with  me." 

The  crows  and  the  chaffinch 
and  the  sparrow  and  the  tit  had 
quite  lost  their  voices.  They 
thought  of  the  other  birds,  who 
had  departed  in  time,  and  knew 
not  where  to  turn  in  their  di- 
stress. At  last,  they  set  out  in  a 
row  to  carry  their  humble  greet- 
ing to  the  new  lord  of  the  land: 

"Here  come  your  birds,  O 
mightiest  of  all  princes!"  said 
the  crow  and  stood  and  marked 
time  in  the  white  snow.  "The 
others  left  the  country  as  soon 
as  you  announced  your  coming, 
but  we  have  remained  to  submit 


<-     148     ^ 


US  to  your  sway.  Now  be  a  gra- 
cious lord  to  us  and  grant  us 
food." 

"We  bow  before  Your  High- 
ness!" said  the  chaffinch. 

"We  have  so  longed  for  you!" 
said  the  tit  and  put  his  head  on 
one  side. 

And  the  sparrow  said  the 
same  as  the  others,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  respect. 

But  the  Prince  of  Winter 
laughed  at  them  disdainfully: 

"Ha,  you  time-serving  birds!" 
he  said.  "Now  you  fawn  upon 
me.  In  Summer's  time,  you 
amused  yourselves  merrily;  in 
Autumn's  you  ate  yourselves 
stout  and  fat;  and,  as  soon  as 


^    149    "*' 


Spring  strikes  up,  you  will  dance 
to  his  piping  like  the  others.  I 
hate  you  and  your  screaming 
and  squalling  and  the  trees  you 
hop  about  in.  You  are  all  here 
to  defy  me;  and  I  shall  do  for 
you  if  I  can." 

Then  he  rose  in  all  his 
strength: 

"I  have  my  own  birds  and  now 
you  shall  see  them.'* 

He  clapped  his  hands  and 
sang: 

Wee  snow-birds,  white  snow-birds, 
White  snow-birds,  wee  snow-birds. 

Through  fields  skim  along! 
To  jubilant  Spring  I  grudge  music 
of  no  birds. 

To  Summer  no  song. 


<"     150     <■ 


Come,     Winter's    mute    messengers, 
swift  birds  and  slow  birds, 

White  snow-birds,  wee  snow-birds. 
Till  the  valley  be  soft  as  down  for 
your  nesting 

Of    numberless    ice-eggs    by    frosty 
rims  spanned! 
Now  rushing,  now  resting. 

White  snow-birds,  wee  snow-birds, 

Skim  soft  through  the  land  ! 

And  Winter's  birds  came. 

Suddenly,  it  darkened  and  the 
air  became  full  of  little  black 
specks,  which  descended  and 
turned  into  great  white  snow- 
flakes.  They  fell  over  the 
ground,  more  and  more,  in  an 
endless  multitude;  all  white  and 
silent,  they  lay  side  by  side  and 
layer  upon  layer.  The  carpet 
over  the  land  grew  ever  thicker. 


"*•     151     ^ 


The  crows  and  the  others  took 
shelter  in  the  forest,  while  the 
snow  fell,  and  gazed  dejectedly 
over  the  valley.  There  was  now 
not  a  blade  of  grass,  nor  yet  a 
stone  to  be  seen :  everything  was 
smooth  and  soft  and  white.  Only 
the  trees  stood  out  high  in  the 
air;  and  the  river  flowed  through 
the  meadow,  black  with  anger. 

"I  know  how  to  crush  your 
said  the  Prince  of  Winter. 

And,  when  evening  came,  he 
told  the  wind  to  go  down. 
Then  the  waves  became  small 
and  still.  Winter  stared  at  them 
with  his  cold  eyes  and  the  ice 
built  its  bridge  from  bank  to 
bank.  In  vain  the  waves  tried 
ta  hum  Spring's  song.     There 


<'     152     ^ 


was  no  strength  in  their  voices. 
In  vain  they  called  upon  Sum- 
mer's sun  and  Autumn's  cool 
breezes.  There  was  none  that 
heard  their  complaint;  and  they 
had  to  submit  to  the  yoke. 

Next  morning,  there  was 
nothing  left  of  the  river  but  a 
narrow  channel;  and,  when  one 
more  night  had  passed,  the 
bridge  was  finished.  Again  the 
Prince  of  Winter  called  for  his 
white  birds ;  and  soon  the  carpet 
was  drawn  over  the  river,  till  it 
was  no  longer  possible  to  see 
where  land  began  and  water 
ended. 

But  the  trees  strutted  ever  so 
boldly  out  of  the  deep  snow ;  and 
the  crows  screamed  in  their  tops. 


<•    163    -> 


The  firs  and  pines  had  kept  all 
their  leaves  and  were  so  green 
that  it  was  quite  shocking  to  be- 
hold. Wherever  they  stood, 
they  acted  as  a  protection 
against  the  frost  and  a  shelter 
against  the  snow;  and  the  chaf- 
finch and  the  other  small  birds 
found  a  hospitable  refuge  under 
their  roofs. 

The  Prince  of  Winter  looked 
at  them  angrily: 

"If  I  could  but  cow  you,  if  I 
could  but  break  you!"  he  said. 
"You  defy  me  and  you  irritate 
me.  You  stand  in  the  midst  of 
my  kingdom  keeping  guard  for 
Summer  and  you  give  shelter  to 
the  confounded  screechers  and 
screamers  who  disturb  the  peace 


<"     154.     <- 


of  my  land.  My  ice  cannot 
penetrate  to  your  pith  and  kill 
you.  If  I  had  only  snow 
enough  to  bury  you,  so  that,  at 
least,  you  did  not  offend  my 
eyes  !'* 

But  the  trees  stood  strong  un- 
der Winter's  wrath  and  waved 
their  long  branches: 

"You  have  taken  from  us 
what  you  can,"  they  said. 
"Farther  than  that  your  power 
does  not  go.  We  will  wait 
calmly  for  better  times." 

When  they  had  said  this, 
Winter  suddenly  set  eyes  upon 
tiny  little  buds  round  about  the 
twigs.  He  saw  the  walnut's 
spikes,  that  smacked  of  spring. 
He      saw     the     little     brown 


^     155     "*• 


mice  trip  out  for  a  run  in  the 
snow  and  disappear  again  into 
their  snug  parlours  before  his 
eyes.  He  distinctly  heard  the 
hedgehog  snoring  in  the  hedge; 
and  the  crows  kept  on  screaming 
in  his  ears.  Through  his  own 
ice,  he  saw  the  noses  of  the  frogs 
stick  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
pond. 

He  was  seized  with  frenzy: 
"Do  I  dream  or  am  I  awake  ?" 
he  shouted  and  tore  at  his  beard 
with  both  hands.  "Are  they 
making  a  fool  of  me?  Am  I  the 
master  or  not?" 

He  heard  the  anemones 
breathe  peacefully  and  lightly 
in  the  mould,  he  heard  thousands 
of  grubs  bore  deep  into  the  wood 


<•     156    "** 


of  the  trees  as  cheerfully  and  im- 
perturbably  as  though  Summer 
were  in  the  land.  He  saw  the 
bees  crawl  about  in  their  busy 
hive  and  share  the  honey  they 
had  collected  in  summer  and 
have  a  happy  time.  He  saw  the 
bat  in  the  hollow  tree,  the  worm 
deep  down  in  the  ground;  and, 
wherever  he  turned,  he  saw  mil- 
lions of  eggs  and  grubs  and 
chrysalids,  well  guarded  and 
waiting  confidently  for  him  to 
go  away. 

Then  he  leapt  down  into  the 
yalley  and  raised  his  clenched 
fists  to  heaven.  His  white  hair 
and  beard  streamed  in  the  wind, 
his  lips  trembled,  his  eyes  glit- 
tered hke  ice. 


157 


He  stamped  on  the  ground 
and  sang  in  his  loud,  hoarse  voice : 

Roar    forth,   mine    anger,    roar   and 
rouse 
What      breathes      below      earth's 
girder ! 
By   thousands    slay   them — bird   and 

mouse. 
And  fish  and  frog  and  leaf  and  louse ! 
In  deadly  fog  the  valley  souse! 
Build  me  a  royal  pleasure-house 
Of  ice  and   snow,   where   storms   ca- 
rouse 
With  Death  and  Cold  and  Murder ! 

He  shouted  it  over  the  land. 

The  ice  broke  and  split  into 
long  cracks.  It  sounded  like 
thunder  from  the  bottom  of  the 
river.  It  darkened,  as  when 
Summer's  thunder-storms  used 
to  gather  over  the  valley,  but 


<-     158     <■ 


worse  still,  for  then  you  could 
perceive  that  it  would  all  pass 
by,  but  now  there  was  no  hope  to 
be  seen. 

Then  the  storm  broke  loose. 

The  gale  roared  so  that  you 
could  hear  the  trees  fall  crashing 
in  the  forest.  The  ice  was  split 
in  two  and  the  huge  floes  heaped 
up  into  towering  icebergs,  while 
the  water  froze  together  again 
at  once.  The  frost  bit  as  deep 
into  the  ground  as  it  could  go 
and  bit  to  death  every  living 
thing  that  it  found  in  the  mould. 
The  snow  fell  and  drifted  over 
meadow  and  hill;  sky  and  earth 
were  blended  into  one. 

This  lasted  for  many  days; 
and  those  were  hard  times. 


<•     159     ^ 

The  sparrows  did  not  know  at 
last  if  they  were  alive  or  dead; 
the  crows  crept  into  the  pine- 
forest,  silent  with  hunger  and 
fear.  The  stag  had  not  found 
a  single  tuft  of  grass  for  two 
days  past  and  now  leapt  belling 
through  the  wood,  tortured  with 
starvation.  The  mice  crept  to- 
gether in  their  parlours  and 
froze;  the  chaffinch  froze  to 
death;  the  hare  lay  dead  in  the 
meadow;  the  fox  ate  the  hare's 
remains  and  was  very  thankful 
to  do  so. 

And,  when  the  weather  sub- 
sided at  last,  things  were  not  a 
whit  better. 

It  was  more  piercingly  cold 
than   ever.     The   snow   lay   all 


->    160    <- 


around  in  huge  drifts;  and, 
where  the  snow  had  been  blown 
away,  the  ground  was  hard  as 
stone.  Every  single  puddle 
was  frozen  to  the  bottom;  the 
lake  was  frozen,  the  river  was 
frozen ;  and  the  stag  had  to  swal- 
low snow  to  slake  his  thirst. 

Want  reigned  on  every  side. 

The  hedgehog  had  shrunk  un- 
til there  was  room  for  two  in  the 
hole  which  was  once  too  small 
for  him.  The  crows  fought  like 
mad,  if  they  found  as  much  as  an 
old  shrivelled  berry  forgotten  in 
the  bushes.  The  fox  skulked 
about  with  an  empty  stomach 
and  evil  eyes.  But  the  little 
brown  mice  discovered  with  dis- 
may that  they  were  nearly  come 


<-    161    ^ 


to  the  bottom  of  their  store-room, 
for  they  had  eaten  very  hard  to 
keep  warm  in  the  bad  days. 
The  Prince  of  Winter  stood 
[I  in  the  valley  and  looked  upon  all 
this  with  content.  He  went  into 
the  forest,  where  the  snow  was 
frozen  to  windward  right  up  to 
the  tops  of  the  smooth  beech- 
trunks;  but  on  the  boughs  of  the 
fir-trees  it  lay  so  thick  that  they 
were  weighed  right  down  to  the 
ground. 

"You  may  be  Summer's  ser- 
vants," he  said,  scornfully,  "but 
still  you  have  to  resign  your- 
selves to  wearing  my  livery. 
And  now  the  sun  shall  shine  on 
you;  and  I  will  have  a  glorious 
day  after  my  own  heart." 


<>     162    -> 


He  bade  the  sun  come  out ;  and 
he  came. 

He  rode  over  a  bright  blue 
sky;  and  all  that  was  still  alive 
in  the  valley  raised  itself  towards 
him  and  looked  to  him  for 
warmth.  There  was  a  yearning 
and  a  sighing  deep  in  the 
ground  and  deep  in  the  forest 
and  deep  in  the  river : 

"Call  Spring  back  to  the  val- 
ley! Give  us  Summer  again! 
We  are  yearning!  We  are 
yearning!" 

But  the  sun  had  but  a  cold 
smile  in  answer  to  their  prayers. 
He  gleamed  upon  the  hoar-frost, 
but  could  not  melt  it;  he  stared 
down  at  the  snow,  but  could  not 
thaw  it. 


•>    163    -> 


The  valley  lay  dead  and  si- 
lent under  its  white  winding- 
sheet.  Scarcely  even  the  crows 
screamed  in  the  forest. 

"That's  how  I  like  to  see  the 
land,"  said  Winter. 

And  the  day  came  to  an  end, 
a  short,  sorry  day,  swallowed  up 
helplessly  in  the  great,  stern 
night,  in  which  a  thousand  stars 
shone  cold  over  the  earth.  The 
snow  creaked  under  the  tread  of 
the  stag;  the  sparrow  chirped 
with  hunger  in  his  sleep.  The 
ice  thundered  and  split  into  huge 
cracks. 

The  Prince  of  Winter  sat  on 
his  mountain  throne  again  and 
surveyed  his  kingdom  and  was 
glad.     His     great,     cold     eyes 


<*     164     <- 


stared,  while  he  growled  in  his 
beard : 

Proud  of  speech  and  hard  of  hand, 

A  cruel  lord  to  follow, 
Winter  locks  up  sea  and  land. 

Blocks  up  every  hollow. 

Summer  coaxes,  sweet  and  bland, 

Flowers  in  soft  vigour ; 
At   Winter's   harsh    and   grim    com- 
mand. 

They  die  of  ruthless  rigour. 

Short  and  cold  is  Winter's  da}', 
Long  and  worse  night's  hours ; 

Few  birds  languish  in  his  pay 
And  yet  fewer  flowers. 

The  days  wore  on  and  Win- 
ter reigned  over  the  land. 

The  little  brown  mice  had 
eaten  their  last  nut  and  were  at 
their  wits'  end  as  to  the  future. 


<•    165    -> 


The  hedgehog  was  reduced  to 
skin  and  bone;  the  crows  were 
nearly  giving  in.  The  river  lay 
dead  under  the  ice. 

Then  suddenly  there  came  the 
sound  of  singing: 

Play  up !     Play  soon  ! 
Keep  time !     Keep  tune ! 

Ye  wavelets  blue  and  tender! 
Keep  time !     Keep  tune ! 
Burst  ice  and  rime 

In  equinoctial  splendour! 

Up  leapt  Winter  and  stared 
with  his  hand  over  his  brows. 

Down  below  in  the  valley 
stood  the  Prince  of  Spring, 
young  and  straight,  in  his  green 
garb,  with  the  lute  slung  over  his 
shoulder.     His  long  hair  waved 


<"    166    ^ 


in  the  wind,  his  face  was  soft  and 
round,  his  mouth  was  ever  smi- 
hng,  his  eyes  were  dreamy  and 
moist. 


THE 
SECOND  MEETING 

ft 


<•    169    <• 


CHAPTER    VI 
The  Second  Meeting 

A   thousand  centuries  ran  as  fast 
As  runs  one  day  of  gladness  past 
[;  And   how   that   is   none   knoweth. 

A  HUNDRED  thousand  years 
passed,  one  like  the  other,  and 
i  the  day  came  when  the  princes 
were  to  meet  again,  as  arranged, 
and  to  hear  from  one  another 
how  things  had  gone. 

They  went  to  the  meeting- 
place  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night  and  sat  down  separately 
where  they  had  sat  before,  in  a 
circle,    each    on    his    mountain. 


♦     170     <• 


When  the  sun  rose,  he  shone 
upon  the  four  great  lords  In  all 
their  might  and  splendour. 

And  Summer's  purple  cloak 
beamed  and  the  golden  belt 
round  his  loins  and  the  rose  in 
his  belt.  Spring  sat  in  his  green 
garb  and  plucked  at  the  strings 
of  his  lute  and  hummed  to  it. 
Autumn's  motley  cloak  flapped 
in  the  wind.  The  snow  on  Win- 
ter's mountain  sparkled  like  dia- 
monds. 

Summer's  eyes  and  Winter's 
met  for  the  first  time  after 
many  years.  The  sweat  sprang 
to  Winter's  brow ;  Summer  shiv- 
ered and  wrapped  himself  in  his 
cloak.  They  were  both  equally 
strong  and  equally  proud;  the 


->    171    ♦ 


eyes  of  the  one  were  as  gentle  as 
the  other's  were  cold  and  stern. 
They  looked  angrily  at  each 
other,  bitter,  irreconcilable  en- 
emies as  before. 

And  Spring  and  Autumn  sat 
just  opposite  each  other,  as  on 
that  day  long  since;  and  their 
eyes  met  like  Winter's  and  Sum- 
mer's, for  they  neither  had  seen 
each  other  during  the  years  that 
passed.  And  Spring's  glance 
was  just  as  moist  and  dreamy 
and  young  and  Autumn's  just 
as  sad  and  serious. 

The  princes  sat  like  that  for  a 
while.  Then  they  all  rose  and 
bowed  low,  but  Spring  and  Au- 
tumn bowed  lower  than  the 
others,  as  befits  those  who  are 


<>     172    ^ 


the  lesser.  And,  when  they 
were  seated  again,  each  on  his 
mountain,  Autumn  turned  his 
serious  eyes  to  Summer  and 
asked : 

"Did  I  keep  the  covenant  we 
made?" 

"That  you  did,"  said  Summer. 
"You  brought  my  produce 
home;  I  thank  you  for  it." 

But  Autumn  turned  to  Win- 
ter and  asked: 

"And  did  I  do  what  I  pro- 
mised you?  Did  I  make  your 
bed?  Did  I  make  room  on  the 
earth  for  your  storms  and  your 
frost?" 

"You  did,"  rephed  Winter, 
bluntly.  "But  you  always  left 
the  valley  too  late." 


<►     173    <• 


Spring  raised  his  young  face 
towards  the  Prince  of  Summer 
and  asked: 

"Did  I  spread  your  cloth  as 
I  promised?  Did  I  release  the 
water  from  the  yoke  of  the  ice, 
did  I  rid  the  earth  of  its  frozen 
crust?  Did  I  drape  the  green 
woods  for  your  coming?" 

"Yes,  you  did,"  replied  Sum- 
mer, kindly.  "And  I  owe  you 
my  thanks." 

But  Winter  shook  his  fist  at 
green  Spring  and  shouted: 

"You  always  came  too  soon, 
you  rascal!  I  never  got  my 
snows  thoroughly  emptied,  my 
storms  had  never  blown  them- 
selves out,  before  you  were 
there  with  your  hurdy-gurdy." 


174 


"I  did  as  I  had  to,"  replied 
Spring  and  smiled  and  plucked 
at  the  strings  of  his  lute. 

But  the  Prince  of  Autumn 
rose  and  made  three  deep  bows: 

"Then  our  meeting  was  for- 
tunate for  the  poor  earth,"  he 
said.  "Now  we  can  part,  never 
to  meet  again,  and  go  our  way 
over  the  land  until  the  end  of 
the  world." 

The  Prince  of  Spring  rose 
and  bowed  three  times,  as  Au- 
tumn had  done,  and  bound  the 
lute  over  his  shoulder.  But 
Summer  and  Winter  remained 
sitting  and  looked  out  before 
them,  as  if  they  had  more  on 
their  minds;  and,  when  Spring 
and  Autumn  saw  this,  they  sat 


•>    175    -> 


down  again,  each  on  his  mount- 
ain, and  waited  respectfully. 

And,  when  this  had  lasted 
some  time,  Winter  raised  his 
white  head  and  looked  from  the 
one  to  the  other.     Then  he  said: 

"Now  I  will  say  what  we  are 
all  thinking." 

Autumn  turned  a  questioning 
glance  towards  him;  and  Spring 
unfastened  his  lute  again  and 
played  and  hummed.  But  the 
Prince  of  Summer  nodded  in  as- 
sent. 

"We  are  princes  by  the  grace 
of  God,"  said  Winter.  "We 
have  shared  the  earth  among  us 
by  turns,  according  to  agree- 
ment, so  that  each  of  us  reigned 
for  a  quarter  of  the  year.     We 


<-    176    ^ 


have  kept  the  covenant  which  we 
made  with  one  another,  but  the 
land  is  no  longer  ours." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Summer. 

"We  are  no  longer  lords  in 
the  land,"  said  Winter.  "Men 
have  seized  upon  the  power." 

The  Prince  of  Summer 
nodded  once  more;  Autumn  just 
bowed  his  head  in  assent;  and 
Spring  hummed  his  songs  and 
looked  out  over  the  land  as  if  he 
were  not  even  listening.  But 
Winter  continued: 

"I  know  not  whence  they 
came.  I  daresay  they  are  some 
of  that  vermin  which  Spring 
lures  up  from  the  mould  with 
his  playing  and  which  Summer 
keeps  the  life  in.     I  do  not  know. 


<-     177    ^ 


But  this  I  do  know,  that  they 
are  there,  swarming  over  the 
land  and  increasing  year  by 
year." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Summer. 

The  Prince  of  Autumn 
nodded  his  head,  but  Spring 
went  on  playing  and  humming. 

"That  is  how  the  matter 
stands,"  said  Winter.  "And  I 
cannot  touch  them.  They  are 
too  clever  for  me  and  they  be- 
come more  clever  each  time  I  see 
them  anew.  In  vain  I  send  my 
most  piercing  colds,  my  might- 
iest storms  against  them.  They 
have  built  houses  in  which  they 
sit  snug  and  safe  and  allow  the 
storms  to  rage.  They  light  fires 
to   keep   themselves   warm  and 


♦    178    ^ 


have  made  themselves  thick 
woollen  clothes  for  their  bodies 
and  limbs,  their  hands  and  feet. 
And  even  that  is  not  enough. 
The  animals  they  have  a  use 
for  they  take  into  their  houses; 
the  bushes  they  want  to  pro- 
tect they  bind  up  in  mats  and 
straw.  When  I  send  my  snow 
down  over  the  earth,  till  it 
lies  right  up  to  the  roofs  of  their 
houses,  they  shovel  it  away  and 
make  roads  and  paths  right 
through  it.  When  I  bind  the 
water  with  ice,  they  break  the  ice 
into  pieces,  if  that  suits  them,  or 
else  they  put  iron  under  their 
feet  and  skate  over  the  ice  and 
derive  a  pleasure  from  it  into  the 
bargain." 


179 


"That  is  true,"  said  Summer. 
"Men  have  seized  upon  the 
power." 

But  the  Prince  of  Winter  was 
not  yet  done  with  his  grievance: 

"It  is  men  that  rule  the  earth," 
he  said.  "And  they  know  it  and 
tease  and  hinder  me  everywhere. 
To  show  their  thorough  con- 
tempt for  me,  they  have  placed 
their  greatest  and  most  import- 
ant festival  in  the  very  midst  of 
my  reign.  So  brazen  are  they 
that  they  simply  beg  me  for  ice 
and  snow  for  their  'Christmas'!" 

"I  know  them  too,"  said  the 
Prince  of  Autumn.  "I  cannot 
deny  that  they  have  made  them- 
selves lords  of  the  earth,  even 
though  they  do  me  no  particular 


->     180     -> 


harm.  But  they  are  self-willed 
and  they  bring  the  crops  home 
sometimes  earlier  and  sometimes 
later  than  is  right." 

"Just  so!"  shouted  Winter. 
"That  is  why  I  cannot  starve 
them  to  death,  because  they  fill 
their  barns  in  Autumn's  time. 
If  we  kept  together,  we  could 
crush  them." 

But  now  Summer  raised  his 
voice : 

"Men  have  the  power,"  he 
said,  "and  we  can  do  nothing  to 
prevent  it.  They  have  become 
too  many  for  us  and  too  clever, 
as  Winter  has  said.  In  the  be- 
ginning, I  had  nothing  against 
them.  They  ran  in  the  forest 
like    my    other    creatures    and 


-^     181     -> 


hunted  and  fought  and  bore 
their  children  under  the  fohage. 
They  obeyed  the  law  of  life,  as  I 
had  laid  it  down,  and  I  granted 
that  to  them  just  as  much  as  to 
the  stag  and  the  sparrow  and 
the  worm." 

"The  first  time  they  saw  me 
they  wrapped  themselves  in 
skins  and  hid  themselves  in 
holes,"  said  Winter,  angrily. 

"That  was  their  right,"  re- 
plied Summer,  calmly.  "Every 
single  being  that  I  have  created 
seeks  protection  against  your 
wickedness,  if  he  cannot  fly  the 
land  during  your  reign.  But 
men  are  no  longer  what  they 
were.  They  no  longer  hunt 
freely  and  bravely  in  the  wood. 


<►     182     ^ 


Their  colour  has  become  pale, 
their  arms  weak,  their  hearts 
craven.  For  years  at  a  time, 
their  children  are  feeble  and 
helpless.  Men  are  wretched 
creatures  that  deserve  to  die; 
and  I  would  not  say  a  word 
against  it  if  Winter  killed  them 
all.  For  they  do  not  reign  be- 
cause they  are  the  strongest,  but 
because  they  have  studied  all  the 
world's  subtle  contrivances  and 
devices.  That  is  what  gives 
them  their  power  upon  earth." 

"Let  us  extirpate  them!" 
roared  Winter. 

"We  cannot  do  that,"  replied 
the  Prince  of  Summer.  "They 
have  adapted  the  earth  entirely 
to  suit  their  own  needs.     They 


♦     183     <- 


have  exterminated  some  of  my 
animals  and  plants,  because  these 
were  of  no  use  nor  pleasure  to 
them;  others  they  have  dissemi- 
nated everywhere.  And  all  that 
they  take  into  their  service  be- 
come weak  and  sickly  like  unto 
themselves,  tied  to  them  and  de- 
pendent upon  them,  so  that  they 
can  yield  them  the  advantages 
which  they  need,  but  are  no 
longer  allowed  to  lead  the  free 
life  for  which  they  were  cre- 
ated. I  hate  men,  as  the  Prince 
of  Winter  hates  them.  But 
there  is  no  remedy  against  their 
might." 

He  ceased  speaking.  The 
three  princes  stared  despondent- 
ly   before    them.     But    Spring 


<-     184     ^^ 


plucked  gaily  at  the  strings  of 
his  lute. 

Then  Winter  turned  to  him 
and  said,  roughly: 

"You  are  the  only  one  that 
has  not  spoken.  What  harm  do 
men  do  you?" 

"Tell  us!"  demanded  Au- 
tumn. 

"Do  you  hate  them  as  we  do?" 
asked  Summer. 

The  Prince  of  Spring  raised 
his  young  face  and  looked  at 
them  as  though  his  thoughts 
were  far  away.  Then  he  said: 
"Men  ?    They  cause  me  no  pain." 

"I  think  that  is  one  of  your 
green  lies,"  sneered  Winter. 

But  Spring  looked  away  be- 
fore   him    with    his    moist    and 


<"     185     ^ 


dreamy  eyes,  plucked  harder  at 
the  strings  and  answered: 

"See,  when  I  come  to  the  val- 
ley and  touch  the  strings  of  my 
lute  and  sing  to  it  and  the  flow- 
ers spring  up  from  the  mould: 
I      then  the  wailing  relaxes  in  men's 
hearts  even  as  in  the  cold  ground. 
V      Then  they  sing  and  flourish  and 
thrive   and   laugh;    and   love   is 
kindled  in  their  thoughts;  and 
i      their  souls  rejoice." 
i  The  three  looked  at  Spring  in 

j      amazement,  but  he  continued : 
I  "There  was  an  old,  old  man, 

when  last  I  came  to  the  valley. 
His  hair  was  white  and  his  eyes 
dim.     His  hands  groped  help- 
i      lessly  before  him;  and  his  legs 
■•      could   scarcely  bear   him.     His 


»v. 


<•     186    ^ 

daughter  died  in  Summer's  pas- 
sionate hours;  his  sons  dropped 
dead  while  gathering  Autumn's 
crops.  His  wife  closed  her  eyes 
under  your  wrath,  O  mighty 
Winter!  But,  when  I  stood  in 
the  valley  and  plucked  at  the 
strings  of  my  lute,  suddenly  he 
straightened  his  crooked  back 
and  his  eyes  recovered  their  fire : 
i  'The  woods  are  turning  green!' 
he  said.  And  he  went  out  and 
ran  on  his  shaking  legs  after  my 
flowers  and  listened  to  my  song 
and  joined  with  the  others  in  my 
green  gladness." 

He  ceased.  'Not  one  of  the 
three  princes  answered  him. 
Long  they  sat  silent  and  looked 
out  over  the  earth. 


4 


♦     187     ■> 


And  evening  fell  and  night. 
The  moon  shone  upon  the  snow- 
clad  mountain,  Summer's  roses 
shed  their  scent,  Autumn's  mot- 
ley cloak  flapped  in  the  wind. 
Spring  plucked  at  the  strings  of 
his  lute  and  hummed  softly  to  its 
music. 

The  next  morning,  the  four 
princes  rose  in  their  splendour 
and  their  might,  bowed  low  to 
one  another  and  strode  slowly 
away  over  the  earth. 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


QLMAR  3 

MAR  2  7 


Form  L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)444 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

LIBRARY 


•x 


REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


3  481354    9 


